Witch Weekly, Which Wizard?
by CyrusLestrange
Summary: Twenty-something Ginny Weasley picks up an issue of the obnoxious tabloid, Witch Weekly, because, well, her face is plastered all over it. 'APPARENTLY' her and Draco Malfoy are in love. Filled with mirth, she looks at the picture of her and her reluctant new business partner, at a lunch meeting in Hogsmeade. Filled with horror, she sees exactly what the headline is talking about...
1. Chapter 1

_All things here belong to the beautiful mind of J.K. Rowling. But thanks to her for letting us crash her party, eh?_

Witch Weekly, Which Wizard?

Ginny Weasley, in a manner befitting of all the worst Romantic Cliches, had taken to sitting hopelessly on her bathroom floor. She was shredding the green-shag bathmat underneath her with anxious fingers, in a last-ditch effort to avoid her thoughts.

Arnold the Pygmy Puff was not having any of it.

Every time she picked a new piece of the spindly carpeting, he would roll with determination over the spot, blinking up at her with what she thought looked like rather _disappointed_ eyes.

"Alright, fine!" she snapped at last, glaring down at him. George was always saying she read too much into the rather mundane and low-minded functions of the miniature puffskein, but she swear she saw the fuzzy little face smile.

Sighing, she turned her mind to the problem at hand.

If you had told a young Ginevra Molly Weasley that she would one day find herself the object of _two_ well-to-do men's affections, she would have snorted with laughter. If you had told her that those men would be Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy... she would have _shrieked_ with laughter.

Partially because the _young_ Ginny Weasley had been pale and freckled, and had not actually _wanted_ to differ from her brothers in gender until she was well into her teens. But mostly because in her young world, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had been the two opposites of human existence that had made up her life at Hogwarts.

_Harry_ had been her idol. Her crush, her _obsession_, and then her first soul-body-mind _love_.

_Draco_ had been... the anti-Harry. He had made her cry, made her livid, and had given her reason to learn a myriad of nasty curses in her 5th year.

If you had told a young Ginevra Molly Weasley that she would one day find her heart _genuinely_ and achingly torn between these two men, she would have hexed you.

The fully-grown-adult Ginny, or as fully grown as one in their early twenties can be, felt rather close to hexing _herself_ at the moment.

She stared down at the two photos on the floor in front of her. One, taken from the Burrow, was of her and Hermione when they were fourteen and fifteen, respectively. The other was an issue of Witch Weekly. _The_ issue of Witch Weekly, she should say.

In the older photo, Ginny was grinning wildly, giddy with some gossip her and Hermione had been in the middle of discussing when her Dad interrupted them with his newest Muggle experiment held awkwardly in front of his eye. She was the fiery, high-moraled girl she had always been.

The Witch Weekly cover showed a very different young woman. One who was sitting next to Draco Malfoy on what was _supposed_ to be one of their professional meetings- _very_ mistakenly held at The Hungry Hag in Hogsmeade, last weekend. He said something dry and sarcastic, as he did, and the Ginny in the picture snorted with laughter, looking over at him with _that face_. That enamored, shining face.

_MOVE ASIDE, ROMEO AND JULIET- A NEW STAR-CROSSED LOVE IS IN TOWN!_

The headline made Ginny cringe every time she so much as thought of it. What a cheesy, housewife-catching, gossip-hound-roiling, _joke_.

She had laughed out loud with horrified and disbelieving amusement the first time she had seen it, glaring out at her from a rack at M. Mallhairer's Magical Market. But then she had picked it up slowly, staring at the picture in her hands.

And she had seen in the picture what she had denied in herself for weeks.

"Arnold, let's say we just make our new home right in here." She picked up the Pygmy Puff, holding him high so as to better show off to him the five foot cube of their tiled surroundings. "You can make a lovely nest right there, in the sink, see? And I can bed down in the tub, and we can _both_ eat spiders and flies to our hearts content. Forever."

She raised her eyebrows in a 'what say you?' gesture. Arnold shook his head and curled up tightly in her hand.

Ginny sighed heavily.

"_Fine._ I guess I'll have to face the outside world after all."

* * *

**A/N- **Oy, leave us a REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N-**_ Thank you for all your reviews, guys! Lady Elizabeth: you know? Astoria hadn't even crossed my mind, but fear not. IF she makes an appearance, she won't be a stereotypical villain. Not my style;)_

_And in response to marinka's question, this will be a love triangle of a mess... not a threesome._

_And lastly, I'm so sorry to those followers who got two notices for Chapter 2- the site crash yesterday made things ALL kinds of weird, and I had to take it down temporarily. BUT here it is again! :_

_- xo Amie_

* * *

_Five Months Previous_

Her flat was an absolute mess, but as always, Ginny simply didn't have time to do anything about it as she grabbed her cloak and hurried for the door. Wilbur, her wise and wary owl, watched her with one eye as she sped across the room, stumbling absurdly over an abandoned boot.

"_Ooph- Damn! _Oh- alright," she muttered, feeling a twinge of guilt and doubling back to rummage through the kitchen drawers for the bag of owl treats she _knew_ she had put there only just yesterday…

Upon succeeding, she let him eat a couple out of her hand, and stroked the downy copper feathers that covered his head. He closed his eyes and became puffed with pleasure. His left side bulged oddly, and with a rustle, the little pink head of Arnold popped out from under his wing.

"Right, you two. _Do_ try not to get into trouble while I'm gone? I'd rather not have to de-beetle the flat again." She gave them a stern eye, though in retrospect, she supposed it _had_ been her fault for leaving her potion kit unattended all day. She smiled fondly at them, and picked her way through the mess and out the door.

Already five minutes late, she dashed down the hallway, pulling her scarf and mittens on as she went.

"Hello, Madame Bissette!" She called to her prudish neighbor, who pressed herself most dramatically against the wall, looking disgraced, as Ginny passed.

"_Mon Dieu, enfant_! Zat 'ees no way for a lady to carry 'erself-"

Ginny acknowledged this with a wave as she barreled around the corner and down the stairs. She was forced to slow herself to a brisk walk for the three blocks of icy cobblestone that lead to the Three Broomsticks. A mere ten minutes late, she opened the door and scanned the crowded pub for her date.

Hermione sat, waving madly, at a table in the corner, which was littered with folders and loose pieces of parchment. Ginny grinned and made her way over, only marginally aware of the stares that followed her. Hermione looked ludicrously overexcited to see her, practically bouncing in her seat, and Ginny's heart skipped a beat. A tiny light of hope sprung to life in her chest.

As Ginny approached, Hermione slid from her seat and flitted over to grasp her hands, grinning from ear to ear.

"_Ginny_! We've done it."

The light in her chest swelled like a handful of leaves on a fire, and she stilled.

"What?" she asked cautiously.

"We've _done _it! _We have an investor_!"

"_WHAT!?_" Ginny shrieked. Hermione squealed with excitement, and the two girls hugged deliriously. Laughing and swaying on the spot, Ginny pulled away to look at Hermione incredulously, "_Who_? When- _How?!_"

Hermione laughed as well, and pulled Ginny over to the table, handing her a tidily addressed piece of parchment.

"Just this morning, it was the most amazing thing," Hermione's eyes were bright with happiness, "I was all ready to divide the project up into the three separate parts, to try and re-submit it to the board of investors that way, when Borris walked into my office with this!-"

"Valois?" Ginny asked, scanning the stately letter, and frowning at the signature. "Is he French?"

Hermione shook her head, leaning across the table to peer at the letter Ginny knew she had read a hundred times over already.

"No… I don't think so. I tried to find the name in all sorts of records, but I couldn't. From what he says in his letter, the part about using discretion, I think he might want to be an anonymous investor. Valois is probably a pseudonym."

Ginny raised an eyebrow,

"Who wants their investment in _charity_ to be anonymous?"

Hermione shrugged, waving Ginny's doubt away,

"More investors than you would think- most often because it can conflict with a businesses' public aims, or because of conflicts of interest between previously agreed upon charity groups. That's irrelevant-"

She took Ginny's hand and looked at her, biting her lip with wide eyes,

"_Ginny_. We've _done_ it. It was _impossible_… but we've done it."

"We've done it..."

Ginny echoed her, feeling her smile grow until it was nearly painful. It _had_ been impossible. Just last week they had been _told_ it was impossible by the board of investors- that their _baby_, the project they had worked tirelessly on for six months, had to be torn apart.

"But… he's supplying the full amount? We can go ahead with the Trinity- we don't have to break it apart?" Ginny scanned the letter again, staring at the confirmation buried within. It had been an _impossible_ sum. She looked up to find Hermione nodding giddily like one of her Dad's Muggle-bobble-head toys.

"The full amount." Hermione sounded just as stunned as Ginny felt. They stared at each other.

_Valois, you beautiful, anonymous bugger._

"Bloody Hell Hermione," Ginny finally managed, feeling herself dangerously close to happy tears, "We- we have to… _celebrate_! Rosmerta! Bring us some-"

The two girls looked at each other blankly and burst out laughing. They both rarely ever drank, and Ginny was not even sure what the occasion called for. Did they toast a sophisticated glass of wine, _founders_ that they now were- or did they get ecstatically smashed on firewhiskey?!

"- Champagne!" Hermione finished, beaming at the barmaid. Rosmerta winked and bustled away, and Hermione scooped up all her papers, tucking them safely away in a folder neatly labeled, 'Trinity Teneo'. Ginny smiled. Rosmerta was back in a flash, uncorking the gleaming golden bottle in a shower of colorful foam, and pouring out two glasses of fragrant champagne.

"To… the impossible!" Ginny said with a flourish. Then added with a raised eyebrow, "and of course, to _Monsieur_ Valois."

"Oh, please don't tease him when we meet," Hermione said imploringly. Then she gasped, looking suddenly apprehensive, "That reminds me… he wants to meet and perform the contract spell tomorrow, but… we are so swamped with cases in the department of Magical Law Enforcement that I don't think I'll be able to get away..."

She looked so uneasy that Ginny laughed out loud.

"Hermione! You don't _really _think that, left to my own devices, I would tease the man giving us Merlin's-_pants_-full-of-money into _backing out _on us, do you?"

Hermione was treacherously silent. Ginny mashed a foot into hers under the table with wide eyes.

"_Hermione!_ As your official new business partner, I demand that you have just a _little_ faith in me!"

Hermione smiled and seemed to relax slightly,

"Alright… but if you don't feel comfortable meeting him alone I'm sure you could persuade Harry or Ron into going with you." She quailed slightly at Ginny's look of adamancy, "… or Borris?"

Ginny grinned at the thought of Hermione's bumbling and well-meant assistant.

"Borris will do."

Hermione nodded, and Ginny felt grateful for her friend's understanding. From the moment the idea of the Trinity had popped into her head, Ginny had been filled with a fierce determination to do this _alone_- out of the protection and shadow of her brothers, and Harry. And right from the start, Hermione had been completely on board with that.

_And they had_ _done it!_

"Excuse me?" A meek voice chirped seemingly from underneath the table. Ginny looked around and found a small girl, standing next to her shyly. "Are you Ginny Weasley?"

Ginny smiled and nodded, her cheeks going a bit pink.

"I just wondered," the girl was blushing too, holding something behind her back. She held it suddenly out, revealing it to be a quill and a shining black book with bold golden letters reading, '_HARK! THE HOLYHEAD HARPIES!', "_Could-I-have-your-autograph?"

"Of course," Ginny said kindly, her cheeks darkening still. She took the book and the girl directed her to a page headlined 'Weasley, Ginny'. Her own face was grinning up at her, from a posed shot she remembered taking when she first signed to the team.

"Thank-you-so-much," the girl said breathlessly, "you're my favorite player ever- when I get to Hogwarts I want to try out for chaser just like you."

Ginny grinned at her, feeling touched,

"I'm sure you'll do brilliantly."

And the girl scampered off, her Holyhead Harpies book clutched tightly to her chest. Ginny looked up to find Hermione looking most amused.

"What?" she asked sheepishly, "don't laugh! I never get used to that."

Hermione's amusement seemed to grow,

"No… It's not that… It's just, you remind me of Harry when _he's_ approached by admirers."

Ginny chuckled,

"Right, except he's got _eleven_ years of practice, to my _one_."

Hermione grinned slyly,

"Yes, but… you know Harry. He still goes red every time someone so much as tiptoes around the word 'hero'."

Ginny laughed, wondering how many times in her life she had seen Harry become awkward when approached by a stranger. The girls looked at each other and smiled fondly at the thought of their overly-modest friend. Ginny sipped her champagne, quite enjoying the taste tonight.

"So- have you been dating anyone recently?" Hermione's voice was completely casual, _too_ casual, and Ginny could still feel Harry's name lurking in the air around them. She gave Hermione a pointed look.

"I've been on a few dates, here and there, yes, but nothing I feel particularly interested in pursuing. I've been too busy," she gestured towards the folder lying between them. There were a few beats of silence in which Ginny could practically hear the struggle raging through Hermione's head.

"Ginny, I'm sorry, but I just don't understand it."

Ginny groaned inwardly.

"I'm sorry, but I don't! You two obviously still have feelings for each other, but it's been six years-"

"_Exactly_, Hermione," Ginny cut in, holding up a hand, "it's been _six years_! We were there for each other in the calm before the storm, and that storm has taken a bloody long time to clean up after. We just… missed our moment to pick up again, that's all-"

Hermione gave her a wily 'that's rubbish and you know it...' sort of look. Ginny could feel herself growing hot around the ears.

"Hermione- we've talked about this. Harry is part of my family... and after this long it would be foolish to mess around in such dangerous territory again."

Hermione narrowed her eyes shrewdly. They had both heard the artificial note in Ginny's voice.

"I don't think that's it at all, Ginny. I think that all it comes down to, is that you are two of the most _stubborn_ people to ever grace the face of the Wizarding world, and neither of you can swallow your pride and address the _stupid, silly_ misunderstanding you had-"

"Hermione," Ginny begged, feeling irritable. The champagne had been lulling her mind into such a lovely state, and the prickles of that old, familiar anxiety at Hermione's words was most unwelcome. She didn't feel like hashing out The Misunderstanding just now, "drop it. Please? Aren't we supposed to be celebrating?"

"Fine, I'll drop it," said Hermione after a few seconds, bowing her head and raising her glass, "but only because today marks the most spectacular day in both of our professional lives."

Ginny grinned her relief, and they chinked glasses once again. They passed the next hour in a blur of giddy planning and incredulous wonder at their inconceivable luck. They managed to finish _half_ the bottle of champagne, and saw to it that Rosmerta dispensed the rest to worthy subjects. They parted with a hug, a few excited squeals, and a promise to celebrate further at Molly's holiday party at the Burrow in two days time.

Ginny took the walk back to her flat very slowly. A light snow was falling, and the shops on the streets were bordered with fairy lights. She realized with a shock that she only had a week to do her Christmas shopping, and vowed that she would begin tomorrow before the meeting.

_The meeting_.

Tomorrow she would meet with the unnamed investor that was giving her and Hermione the single largest donation in Wizarding history, towards the project that had consumed her day and night for what felt like a lifetime. How strange that it had only really been six months ago, when that fateful lightbulb had flitted to life in her mind- causing her and Hermione's lives to all but explode with excitement.

And _tomorrow, they would see it though. _It would, in the dancing ribbons of the contract spell, be turned from mere fantasy to something on it's way to becoming _real_. This knowledge burned like a talisman in her chest, making the snow seem lighter, and the fairy lights brighter.

A couple walked by arm in arm, and she smiled after them. She remembered the Christmas three years ago, when she had still been longing for Harry so much, it had hurt to breathe. She remembered the resentment and sadness she had felt, watching happy couples go about their holiday activities. She felt nothing but a sweet kind of pleasure, seeing the lovers walking ahead of her now. She was _happy_ on her own, happy with the things she was doing- of what she had accomplished for herself. Pride burned in her like a sun.

All was well.

* * *

**A/N:**

Tis the season to **revie-ew! **- Fa la la la la... la la la la! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Thank you for your reviews, everybody. I cannot tell you how much more fun it is for me to WRITE with every review I get. Thank you for taking the few extra seconds to let me know what you think!_

_Don't worry, I will be seeing this tale through to the bitter (or sweet?) end..._

_Did you know that Malfoy means 'Bad-Faith'? ;)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_The Meeting_

Snow crunched most satisfactorily underfoot, as Ginny made her way down Diagon Alley.

_Everyone_ seemed to be in the spirit today, and she was wished a Happy Holiday by so many smiling strangers, that after an hour of shopping, she found herself grinning like a loon at everyone she passed in turn. Carols floated merrily out of shops every time their doors were opened, and the trees that dotted the Alley were enchanted to jingle like bells every time the wind caught their branches.

It was quite hard to feel anything but happy, especially with the knowledge that she was about to perform the contract spell _in under an hour, _still burning brightly in her chest.

She went over her purchases in her mind, feeling pleased by the considerable weight of the bags in her hands. Scattered and overworked she might be, but _by God_, she would_ uphold_ her reputation as Queen of Christmas at the Burrow! She remembered George's half-drunk-and-one-quarter-joking proclamation that he was going to upstage her this year, and grinned. _Not a chance._..

The large clock tower in the center of town told her that it was 12:30, and she sped up the crunching rhythm of her steps.

Her mum was going to love the opal earrings and signed Celestina Warbeck record she had managed to find. And _Hermione_ was going to be positively beside herself when she opened her set of new stationary, personal notebook, and golden plaque all reading '_Hermione Granger, Founder, Trinity Teneo'_. Ginny suspected Hermione just might be the sort of person to be excited about these sorts of practical gifts no matter _what_, but it was the symbolism of it that sent stabs of excitement through Ginny herself, when she pictured the letterhead in her mind's eye.

She had reached Colloid Alley, and turned down it with a quickening heart.

Here, the air was markedly less festive, but not unpleasant. The sounds of bells and carols faded into the distance, as shop fronts were replaced by office buildings- some tall and imperious, and some slightly more humble and inviting. She could see Borris, twenty yards ahead, waiting statue-like in front of one of the more imperious designs, and hurried to meet him.

"Good afternoon, Miss!" he said, sinking into a formal bow at the sight of her. She smiled as he came dangerously close to slipping on the icy pavement as he straightened.

"Hello, Borris."

The building was nondescript. It was made of black stone, and trellises of red winter roses snaked up the walls on either side of the glass door. A gleaming silver sign at eye level on the glass read simply: '1077'. Ginny pushed the door open, and Hermione's ever-helpful assistant scrambled to hold it for her. They were enveloped in warmth and an inviting aroma of brewing tea as they stepped inside, and Ginny grinned at Borris. He smiled primly back, and she nudged him in the ribs.

"Reel it _in_, Borris- you'll get us chucked out!"

He smiled politely, looking a little confused. Ginny grinned again. Borris was overly-professional to a fault, and from the moment she met him, she had made it her life's mission to one day make him crack.

They made their way down an entry-way corridor lined with handsome paintings of various magical sites around the world. Ginny had to resist the urge to stop and look at them, especially when she noticed a beautiful portrait of Hogwarts in the Springtime, hanging above the entryway to the room beyond. They crossed the threshold and she realized the room was a reception-area. It was as nondescript, but oddly cozy, as the outside of the building had been- with dark oak walls, black leather seating, and a crackling fireplace mounted inside a brick hearth.

A middle-aged witch was sitting at a desk in the center of the room, reading The Daily Prophet. She looked up at them over cat-eye reading glasses when they entered.

"Can I help you?" she asked, pleasantly enough.

"Yes. We're here to meet with Mr. Valois," answered Ginny cheerfully. The witch looked amused,

"Oh yes, Mr. _Valois_." Ginny could have sworn the eyes behind the cat frames flickered towards the ceiling, "he should be in at any moment now. You can wait in his office."

She motioned them towards a door directly opposite her desk. Borris walked over to it at once, opening it and holding it poised at the ready, before Ginny even had time to turn around.

"Thank you," she said to the witch in her most dignified voice. She turned to follow Borris, and then doubled back, "damn," she muttered, struggling to organize the bags in her hands, "could I leave these with you for the duration of the meeting?"

The witch nodded and took them graciously, to store behind her desk. Seemingly as an afterthought, she offered to take Ginny's coat and scarf as well. Ginny shook out her hair and smoothed her skirt as she crossed the room to the door that was still held patiently for her, feeling definite traces of nerves mingling with her excitement.

The office of Mr. Valois was in suit with the rest of the building. Large, with dark walls and furnishings, it was completely lacking in any kind of personal touch, but was inexplicably warm all the same. A vase of the roses that were growing on the walls outside sat prettily on the desk, and a beautiful painting of a turn-of-the-century Hogsmeade was hung over the window. Ginny took a seat in a plush blue velvet chair, and Borris did not move from his place by the door.

They waited.

After five minutes of pure adrenaline on Ginny's part, she heard the distant sounds of someone opening the door to the street outside, and a steady stream of irritated muttering coming down the corridor. She peeked out from behind Borris to see a heavily cloaked man enter the reception room, brushing snow from his trousers. She caught the phrase 'damn, bloody children', and saw the witch raise her eyebrows. She hoped Mr. Valois wasn't crotchety.

The man shook off his hood, and removed his cloak and scarf with a peeved flourish. He turned to speak to the secretary witch, and Ginny saw his profile. Instantly retracting her head, she stiffened in her chair. _Bugger_. It wasn't Mr. Valois at all. It was _Draco_ _Malfoy_.

_No, no, no-no-no. Not right now. Do not lose your temper, do not lose your temper-_

She closed her eyes, praying that he hadn't seen her.

_Just continue on your way, Malfoy_.

She had been lucky enough to only come face to face with Draco three times since the Battle of Hogwarts, and each time had been about as pleasant as it had been at school. If he _had_ seen her, and decided to indulge in some Weasley-baiting… she couldn't help but feel that a rage-blackout would not be the best state in which to meet Mr. Valois.

She turned her energy instead towards willing herself to remain calm no matter _what_, listening intently for the sound of his footsteps passing the open door where Borris stood, to continue on to one of the farther, far, far away offices. But no such sound came.

"This is for you," the witch at the desk said in a bored voice. Ginny chanced a glance through the gap between Borris' back and the door to see Malfoy accepting a large stack of envelopes. His eyes flickered over Borris, and he sized him up uninterestedly. "And your one o'clock is here."

"I can _see_ that for myself, funnily enough."

Ginny's temper spiked instantly at the sound of that _derisive _voice. Footsteps were approaching. Fuzzy confusion settled down upon her. Malfoy was standing assuredly before Borris, holding out his right hand.

"You must be the head of Trinity Teneo. Thank you for coming. I'm Draco Malfoy…"

His words hung in the air weightlessly for a few sprawling seconds, and Ginny found she had rather forgotten how to process the English Language.

Her body seemed to begin to understand before her mind did. Her brain actually felt quite paralyzed; she could not _fathom_ what his words meant. But somewhere in her chest, a faint whining struck up its first notes of warning. Her palms were suddenly clammy against the blue velvet arms of her chair.

"Oh! No, Sir…" Borris was flustered. He bowed out of the way, looking from Malfoy to Ginny.

She stood numbly.

There was a moment of utter silence in the room as they looked at each other. The whining inside of her grew louder. Malfoy's face was unreadable. Then his eyes narrowed and he spoke slowly,

"Are you lost, Weasley?"

The light in her heart went painfully cold.

Hearing her name spoken in that insufferable drawl made Ginny feel like a First Year again, and _that_ filled her with hot anger.

"Please leave us, Borris," she managed evenly after a few moments, feeling herself use her last ounce of calm in the act.

Borris turned instantly and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Ginny might have appreciated his over-obedience for the very first time- if it weren't for the anger threatening to spew out of her like dragon fire, into the office of the dragon himself.

"_Valois?_" she said in a voice that was shaking with fury. Malfoy nodded blankly, _that sneer_ creeping into place.

"Sometimes."

"You evil, buggering, _git_," she said through clenched teeth, glaring into the grey eyes in front of her. There was a terrible crestfallen feeling settling slowly over her sunken stomach. "Is this your idea of a bloody _joke_, Malfoy?"

He raised a lazy eyebrow at her sudden temper.

"Definitely not. Forgive me, Weasley, but I can't seem to find the humor in having one of _your lot_ tarnishing my office."

He pushed past her, catching her slightly with his shoulder, to the black oak desk and picked up a folder lying neatly on top, "It'll take the cleaning witch ages to scour the _sincerity _out of here. I'll have to pay her overtime."

He met her eyes over the pieces of parchment he was scanning within the folder, his trademark smirk settling home on his lips at the sight of her face. Which she imagined was nicely blotchy with shock and rage.

"Matters of gold are no _joke_ to me," he continued, egged on by her obvious fury. She swore he nearly grinned as his eyes travelled over her hair. "But then... that's a trait of _my lot_. I don't suppose you would understand."

Ginny closed her eyes, biting her tongue against the slew of insults threatening to pour out of her mouth, in favor of trying to settle the terrible confusion in her brain. _What_ was going on? This simply couldn't be.

He spoke before she could,

"Right. So put my mind at ease, Weasley, and tell me that you found yourself a nice little side job as a secretary for the _man_ behind Trinity Teneo?"

"_I'M_ behind Trinity Teneo," she snapped, "Hermione Granger and I."

He looked at her with disgusted resignation for a moment, and then gave a humorless laugh, running an angry hand through his already cloak-mussed hair.

"Well, good fucking God, I should have known. This has the _stink_ of Granger on every page."

He continued to scan the parchment in the folder, with a new expression of distaste. Ginny wanted to scream.

"_Right," _she said abruptly, advancing on him, "You don't fool me for a second, Malfoy. You can't expect me to believe that you didn't know _exactly_ who you were dealing with. Let me guess- Pucey told you we were denied by the board of investors, and you thought it would be a _laugh_ to give us false hope, did you?"

Her hand had found her wand. "-thought you would invite us down here, to see the looks on our faces when we realized the joke's on us?"

He looked at her with pointed annoyance; entirely un-phased by the rising pitch of her voice, the wand in her hand.

"Didn't I just _say_ that matters of money are no _joke_ to me?"

He continued his perusal of the parchment in front of him. When she didn't move or speak, he looked up,

"Weasley, please. This is a place of business. _Stuff_ your childish accusations, and have a seat."

Ginny opened her mouth, but her brain had grown so frenzied, she could no longer form words. This was unbelievable. Un-bloody-believable. Draco Malfoy, the unnamed investor that mere hours ago, had made her heart sing with joy. _Draco Malfoy_, telling her not to be _childish_. Draco Malfoy, ordering _her_ to sit.

"I'll stand, thanks."

She actually would have liked to sit down very much. Her body felt heavy with shock and disappointment, but Malfoy seemed, despite his irritation, to be _enjoying_ this- and bloody hell, if he thought she was going to do a single thing she asked-

He flicked his brows upward in a sarcastic, '_suit yourself_' motion, his eyes not leaving the paper in front of him. There was a minute of silence, as Ginny tried to gather herself. Malfoy broke it by tossing the folder onto the desk in front of him, looking incredibly irritated.

"_Well_. At least it wasn't _my_ error. Your names don't appear on that proposal once."

Ginny stared at him. Unbelievable. _Un_believable! Feigning ignorance and then trying to _pin it_ on her-

_You enormous prat-_

"Close your mouth, Weasley, it's not attractive." He smirked as she automatically shut her mouth, which had been gaping in incredulity, and sighed showily before continuing,

"I did _not_ know that you and… _Granger_," he closed his eyes, seemingly pained at having to waste energy on speaking Hermione's name, "were behind the Trinity Teneo Project. I have my assistant scope out all investment opportunities for me, and it is through _him_ that we have been communicating. _I _make decisions and show up for meetings. I've had my eye on Trinity for a while. I knew it would be rejected, and I knew that when it was I would step in. Cuts out any competitive costs for me."

He looked at her superiorly, as if she should be impressed by his savvy. She ignored her irritation at this, and felt out his words. Would even _Malfoy_ have gone through so much trouble, after six years of naught, just to taunt them?

She decided that he might be telling the truth.

"You _really_ didn't know it was us?" she asked, watching him with hawk-eyes.

"I _really_ did not." He rubbed a long-fingered hand over his eyes, "believe me, if I _had_, I would have thought twice about offering my investment."

He stood up, and strolled to sit cockily on the windowsill behind his desk, crossing his arms as he looked her over critically.

"Unfortunately, however, your proposal was _deceptively_ anonymous, and I fear I've grown quite attached to the… possibilities… within the bones of your ideas."

_The _bones_ of their ideas. _The _bones_ of their _ideas. _Oh, _yes!- _ Just the mere bones- forget the _intricate, _groundbreaking-bloody _meat_ of those ideas that they had poured themselves into developing for months upon months.

Ginny surprised herself with the ability to laugh.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy, but you can't seriously think we would work with you."

He raised his eyebrows in a small display of surprise, and she felt a tiny tickle of satisfaction in her chest.

"No? And why not?" he held her gaze, looking suddenly more serious, "I wouldn't think you in any position to be _choosy_, Weasley. You'll never get another offer for the Trinity as a whole-"

"-'Why _not'? _Don't pretend like you need to ask me that." Ginny rubbed her own eyes, feeling as though she were trapped in some bizarre nightmare. "The whole purpose of Trinity Teneo is to rebuild, and _protect_ against the damage that the Death Eaters did and are _still doing_."

She dropped her hand from her face, and held his eye contact just as fiercely as he had held hers a moment ago,

"You know just as well as the rest of the Wizarding World, that _you_ are rumored to be one of the most powerful Death Eaters still alive today."

His face did not change, but _something_ happened in his eyes.

The moment was too charged, over too soon, for Ginny to be able to say _exactly _what it was, and she watched him carefully for another giveaway.

"_Rumors_ are nothing more than the hapless result of a public that is now _bored _in Voldemort's absence," he said quietly, "They are the by-product of prejudice and bored house-witches who need a thrill, and nothing more."

He paused, watching his words settle over Ginny, "My name was _cleared_ five years ago. By your precious boyfriend, _Potter_, no less. _You_ know _that_ just as well as the rest of the Wizarding World, Weasley."

This was true, and while Ginny knew that Malfoy and his parents had been cleared to the best of Harry's ability for their actions at the _end_ of the war… their sentence (or lack thereof) meant very little to the general population in terms of what the Malfoys may or may not have chosen to do with themselves _after_ the war. As far as most people were concerned, 'once a snake, always a snake'. Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Harry were never quite sure what to believe.

"Harry's not my boyfriend," was all she could think to say. Malfoy's smirk returned in full-force,

"_My_ mistake. Must just be a _rumor_."

Ginny rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She couldn't quite process the loss of the incredible thing she and Hermione had possessed for a few short hours.

"Weasley," Malfoy spoke again, his tone slightly softer, "I'm not going to try and talk you into accepting my offer, but I see a lot of potential in Trinity Teneo. I would fund it in full."

He looked at her very seriously, as if to impress upon her what an incredible offer he was making. She hated how _well_ he embodied this role of 'Imperial Businiessman', and she hated the truth and logic in the serious look he was giving her.

He sighed slightly, and added, a little begrudgingly,

"You are a fool if you will let yourself be dissuaded by rumors. You have proven yourself today to still be… _childish_. But I will admit that I have never thought you a fool."

Ginny looked back at him, feeling hollow. He had grown into his once pointy features, but his face was still very much the same. He was still well-groomed, still wearing the expression of smug superiority that his face just sort of naturally came to rest in.

She just couldn't trust it. This was still Draco Malfoy.

"No, Malfoy," she said wearily, "I _am_ a fool if I put the project I have worked on for _months-_ one that will be a major step in stamping out the Death Eaters for good- _into_ the hands of someone who could very well be a Death Eater himself. I won't just give away crucial secrets and information that naively."

She felt a strange and far-off shadow of dread, and a distant image of the boy in the diary, who had once been her best friend, drifted through her dazed subconscious.

Malfoy was watching her shrewdly, and she thought she could see… disappointment in his face.

"Well then. I already said I wasn't going to try and talk you into it."

He picked up the folder on his desk, and held it out to her, nodding curtly towards the door. She took it numbly.

"I'm sorry we got each other's hopes up," she said, honestly.

She felt much more sorry for _herself_ than she did for _him_ however, and with a last look that was full of dislike on both sides, Ginny turned and left.

Borris sensed her mood as soon as she opened the door, and did not say a word to her as she absently handed him the folder and walked like a zombie towards the coat-rack. Once again, she was too distracted to appreciate his professionalism in a moment of need, as she grabbed her coat and scarf in complete silence, fuming and feeling like she could crack under the weight of disappointment at the same time.

The silence continued as they walked down the painting-lined corridor, and out onto the bland and entirely un-festive street of Colloid Alley. She could only manage a half-smile, and a half-wave, before she disapparated on the spot, leaving the most 'spectacular accomplishment of her professional life' behind in the office of Draco Malfoy- the dragon of bad-faith.

* * *

**R-E-V-I-E-W-!**


	4. Chapter 4

_A Party at the Burrow_

* * *

In hindsight, the night of her mother's party was the night that _really_ started it all.

Perhaps it was the alignment of the planets, or perhaps it was the undercurrent of magic in their lives that runs far more deeply than that which they can touch with their wands. Whatever it was, it was ignited- blasted into motion- with three glasses of wine and the rash emotional temperament that comes along with the Weasley surname.

It was a time that Ginny would look back on, shocked at how young, how pure she was, a mere five months ago.

It was a time before she ever screamed her throat raw at Draco Malfoy, before she ever shared a joke with him, or saw him actually, really smile.

It was a time before she ever walked in on him, mid-shag.

It was, a simpler time.

**-WWWW-**

"Ooh, how 'orrible! Bill, did you 'ear? Ginny's petit project was rui'ned by zat 'orrible leetle Malfoy boy!"

This was the final straw. Forcing herself to be polite in response to Fleur's theatrical pouty face took everything Ginny had. And then some. Managing to smile grimly and turn away, she widened her eyes pointedly at her mother, who gave her a 'now, Ginny…' look and ushered her away. It was all too much.

She extricated herself calmly from the center of the living room, where her entire family, and most of the Order was gathered, drinking and laughing in the Holiday Spirit. Merry music was pouring out of the wireless on the coffee table, and George and Angelina were getting up to begin one of their dancing sessions. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat on the couch with most of the older Wizards in attendance, discussing matters of politics and history, and Teddy was racing around the room, crashing into people's legs and making explosion noises.

Though it warmed her heart to see all of this, Ginny needed a moment of _peace_.

She headed to the kitchen, the sounds of the party growing blessedly muffled. She could hear Ron's voice blasting through the living room beyond, but Hermione was unusually late. Ginny decided to take refuge in the quiet darkness until she arrived; explaining their defeat to each new arrival wouldn't be nearly as tiring when Hermione was there to share the task.

She made herself a cup of hot cocoa, and sat down at the small rickety table.

Her meeting with Draco Malfoy was painfully fresh in her mind, and she felt an unpleasant mixture of foolishness and defeat every time she thought of it- which was every minute or two. She felt inexplicably _dirty_… It had been a long time since she had been forced to associate so directly with someone linked to the Death Eaters, and the few minutes she had spent in his office had cast an old war-time feeling of heaviness over her. There was a deep despair- in her own case often buried under lively anger, but there all the same- in sitting alone in a room with someone and spending the entire time, underneath the charade of conversation, trying to figure out whether or not they want you dead. It was a blow to her belief in humanity itself; one she had not been confronted with for a very long time. Six years, in fact.

The backdoor opened, and someone entered the kitchen behind her.

"Oh… Hi, Ginny."

A soft male voice spoke, and her heart skipped a beat, as it always did when he caught her off guard. She turned to see him standing in the doorway, looking tired and surprised to see her sitting there.

"Hello, Harry," the casual cheeriness in her voice sounded forced to her own ears. She tried not to wince, and defaulted instantly to banter. If there was anything that had been ingrained in her by twenty-two years with six brothers it was, when in doubt, _tease._

"Trying to sneak into the party unnoticed were you?" she asked, grinning at him. He smiled sheepishly back, sitting down heavily beside her. She tried to ignore the way her heart strained at his close proximity.

"Yes, I actually thought I'd have a moment to unwind from work before I went in." He looked wearily towards the living room, where the voices were increasing steadily in volume with every round of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey served.

"Well, I'm sorry, but this kitchen already has a resident sulker. You'll have to find your own corner of the house."

"Damn… but the chicken coop is so cold this time of year," he said in mock-sadness, settling back in his chair, his eyes twinkling at the sport of their usual banter, "can't we share?"

"I don't know…" Ginny pretended to survey the kitchen, "I seem to be quite the dramatic mess tonight- I don't know if there's room for _two_ such individuals in here…"

She smiled impishly and he threw a leftover dinner napkin at her.

"Alright, alright," she conceded, "I'll allow it." She could not_, _as much as she kicked herself for it, help but notice that Harry was here alone, which was unusual. Glancing towards the door expectantly, she asked, "No Gwendolyn?"

Ginny secretly congratulated herself on how normally she was able to say the name; as if she had _not_ spent the last three months mocking it in private to Hermione.

"Nope," Harry said shortly, making it clear in the way that only Harry could, that the conversation would not be budging any further.

"Mmm." Ginny cast around for something genuine to say about the blonde girl that Harry had taken up with, but couldn't quite do it. She settled for, "Hot chocolate?"

"Yeah," Harry said at once, the temporary guard that had gone up around him relaxing slightly. Ginny had to suppress a fond smile at the boyishness of his reaction.

She got up to prepare another mug of thick chocolate. Her mind was dwelling rebelliously on Gwendolyn's absence as she rinsed the excess cocoa from her hands, and walked the steaming mug slowly to the table. Harry had been staring distractedly at the clock on the wall as she brewed his drink. His eyes were on Fred's hand, which had not moved from 'home' in six years. He blinked in surprise as she set the mug down in front of him, and she felt herself grow still as she watched him look soberly into it's depths, wondering where his mind was straying to.

The air in the room thickened with the passing moments, as they both became aware of how close she was standing to him. His gaze traveled gently from the mug, up her arm, to her torso, which was inches from his face. He looked her up and down, taking his time in a way he _never _did, and rubbed disconcerted-ly at his jawline. Their eyes met and there was a strange, distant expression on his face.

Ginny forced herself to break the look, and walked back to her seat. Harry cleared his throat as she sat down.

"So. What's got _you_ such a 'dramatic mess' tonight?" he asked, distractedly.

"Malfoy," she said shortly. He seemed to snap back to consciousness.

"_Oh_- of course. Hermione told me. I'm sorry, Gin."

Ginny made a noise of irritation, indicating that she didn't want his sympathy, and he shrugged. His shoulders were broad now, she noticed. She had noticed this before, but always in a half-conscious, unwilling-to-_admit_-that-she-noticed kind of way. Like the way she sometimes caught herself studying the definition in his forearms- the veins and callouses on his hands. Things that had all _not _been there when she had studied him as a younger girl.

The tension had not left the kitchen, and she caught him looking at her with that strange, darkened expression again.

"So, where _is_ Gwendolyn tonight?" she asked bluntly, not able to keep the name _completely_ sarcasm free.

"So, what exactly _are_ you going to do, now that you've rejected your investment?" He challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Ginny opened her mouth, then closed it again. Hermione's words rang out in her mind. '_All that it comes down to is that you are two of the most stubborn people to ever grace the face of the Wizarding world…'_

She smiled, seeing the truth in Hermione's words, as usual.

She wondered how things might be different now, if she and Harry weren't both quite _so_ stubborn. They had been pretty damn close before he had left with Ron and Hermione during her 6th year at Hogwarts…. But after the Final Battle, the world had been so shaken. So many people they loved had died, and so much had needed to be re-built. Romance, contrary to what she had expected, had been the farthest thing from her mind.

They had fallen into the awkward, surrogate-family, nearly-friend roles they had played in each other's lives for the five years preceding their romance, and then… there had been The Misunderstanding.

A year after the war had ended, life had seemed a little more suited for such normal things as _dating_. The question seemed to constantly hang in the air around Harry and Ginny, burning on everyone's tongues. And then she had heard the rumor. That Harry _was_ in fact dating- Parvati Patil. She had heard it from so many different people, and had_ thought_ she had seen evidence with her own eyes… and Ginny had acted rashly.

Feeling hurt and foolish, she had blindly stumbled into the arms of one of the first young men to cross her path. Harry, who, as it turned out, had nothing to do with Parvati past interviewing her as a witness for an auror case, had not taken kindly to this. Two of the most bull-headed people in England were suddenly hell-bent on not being the one to let their pride go, and some sort of impermeable wall had gone up between them.

After a certain point, their quasi-family relationship had grown passive and comfortable again. The idea of putting their fragile boundaries to the test once more had felt too dangerous to Ginny... and they had simply... lain forcibly dormant.

Years later now, they _did_ actually date other people. But then there were moments like these, that were so wrought with sexual tension and unspoken desire, that Ginny could hardly see straight.

"What's going on in here?" Ron's voice broke the thick stillness in the room, as he poked his head through the door to the living room, "Conspiring against Christmas?"

"Just trying to get a break from all the noise," said Ginny pointedly, eyebrows raised at the main culprit.

"It'a a bloody party! We're s'posed to celebrate, make a little noise!" Ron sidled over to the table to inspect their hot-chocolates. "C'mon, you two, enough _sulking_…."

"I'm not sulking," protested Harry.

"Oh, bugger off, Ron," said Ginny, half smiling.

"Hello, you all." Luna had drifted silently into the room as well, smiling merrily down at them.

"Luna!" Ginny exclaimed, her spirits instantly brightened. She got up to embrace her friend, who squeezed her back gently, round eyes dancing. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm good," shrugged Luna. She looked from Ginny to Harry, "_Are_ you sulking? It rather looks like it."

"I'm _not_ sulking!" Harry exclaimed again.

"Oh, well…" Ginny waved a dismissive hand, not sure what to say, "Not _sulking_ exactly. Hermione and I have just run into some trouble with our project."

"Oh?" Luna's eyes were curious, "What sort of trouble?"

"Well…" Ginny sighed inwardly, not really wanting to delve into it again, "It's a _three_-part protection project. One part would be re-building damage done to families and homes, particularly for Muggleborns, the second part would be an education program to reverse some of the anti-muggle sentiment that the Death Eaters are still managing to spread, and the last part would be a line of defensive products and instruction, to help the population as a mass take action against the remaining Death Eaters."

Her voice sounded monotonous in her ears as she gave the explanation she had given five times already tonight.

"However, to fund all three parts as one requires a donation so enormous…" her voice fizzled out, her thoughts on Malfoy. She waved a hand, "…it just can't be done. _But_ the problem is, that Hermione and I think we have come up with a new kind of magic-"

Here, she couldn't keep the excitement from creeping into her voice.

"- a _Tresvires Adstringo_ spell. It would bind the three parts of the project, making them infallible as a whole. That's why it's been dubbed the Trinity Teneo project- because the strength is in the three-parts that make one complete line of defense…" Ginny clapped her hands together with forced bravado, "-_but_, that's off the table now, so we need to just set our sights on breaking them up and making them as strong as possible individually."

There was silence in the room, as there usually was when Ginny and Hermione startled rattling off about the Trinity. It was a concept they had delved into so fully- it was easy to forget that it sounded like gibberish to the ears of most.

"Well," Harry spoke carefully, "you don't _have_ to break it up."

He was looking at her seriously, and she stared back.

"It sure looks like we do," she said, not sure where he was leading her.

"You _had_ an offer…" his voice trailed off as Ginny's eyebrows shot up defensively.

"From _Draco Malfoy_," she said flatly. Harry shrugged,

"It was still an offer."

"Yeah, but Harry," Ron interjected, "_Malfoy_."

Harry nodded absently, looking lost in thought. Ginny knew that his confidence in his own judgement of character had been heavily shaken after learning of Snape's true loyalty.

"Harry, I can't put a project that could be so crucial for protecting the world against the Death Eaters into _Malfoy's_ hands… You know he's most likely still involved with them."

Harry looked at her, long and hard; his eyes intense as he searched hers. It was another look that she _rarely_ ever got from him, and it disarmed her into continuing,

"I think you're just afraid to judge Malfoy too quickly- after everything with Snape," she said slowly. Harry's eyes softened a little,

"Maybe. Or maybe, Ginny, you're too afraid to take a risk, after everything with Riddle's Diary."

She felt her heart skip a beat unpleasantly, and looked up at him sharply. Ron shifted uncomfortably beside Harry.

"I never thought Malfoy was all that bad," Luna piped up, surprising the other three, "I was always reminded of that expression, what is it? 'His bark is worse than his bite'?"

Ron gaped at her, open-mouthed,

"But- _Luna_- you were _imprisoned _in his _cellar_ for _months_!"

Luna shrugged mildly, and Ginny felt the usual awe and love for her gentle friend, swelling in her chest.

"Yes… but whenever he had to do anything Voldemort or Bellatrix ordered him to… it always seemed like he _hated_ it."

There was another silence in the kitchen, as everyone tried to decide what to make of this, and Hermione entered.

"There you are!" said Ginny and Ron together. Ginny felt a flood of relief at seeing her, and let out a laughing, "Thank Merlin!"

"Yes, yes- sorry I'm late," Hermione was speaking in a distracted rush, as she did when she had something important to share, "Ginny- I have to show you something."

Ginny eyed the stacks of folders in Hermione's arms warily, "What?"

Hermione hastily put the folders down on the rickety table, which wobbled a little under their weight. She was sorting through them in such a frenzy, Ginny began to feel a little panicked.

"_Look_ at this!" Hermione said at last, extricating a particularly thick folder, and all but throwing it down in front of Ginny. Ginny picked it up. 'Bobbins Orphanage and Muggleborn Reparation Project No. 1'. She raised her eyebrows at the heading, and Hermione gestured impatiently for her to open it. "_Look_ at the name of the primary donor."

Ginny opened the folder, and scanned the first page.

"Bourbon?" she asked blankly. Hermione nodded madly, and unearthed another folder from the mass. Ginny opened this one, titled, 'Defense Against the Dark Arts Home Education Project', and scanned for a name. "Capet?"

"Bourbon, Capet, and _Valois_," Hermione said, her eyes sparkling, "are all names of mid-century French Dynasties. _Malfoy_, is also a French name, you might care to know."

She sat down next to Ginny, looking intently at her,

"Ginny, I think _all_ of these are Malfoy. And I've researched_ every _possible sign of his investment in these projects having ulterior motives, and there are none. For all intents and purposes, it seems as though he truly is investing in projects like these- like _ours_- out of genuine interest. Or guilt, perhaps," she added as an afterthought.

Ginny stared at her, taking her words in slowly. She could feel her pride beginning to protest.

"_-Sorry," _Ron interjected with a snort, "are you telling me that Malfoy is now adopting the names of French _Royalty_?"

"_Ginny_," Hermione pressed on, ignoring Ron entirely, as if she could see exactly where Ginny's emotions were headed, "I _know_ he's a git. But the fact that he has made these donations anonymously, _and_ both projects have been wildly successful- I think we may be able to trust him."

Ron was beginning to protest more seriously, and Hermione shot him a sharp look, silencing him instantly.

Despite herself, Ginny felt some of her terrible disappointment lift ever so slightly. She felt the first tingles of excitement return, as she looked into Hermione's warm, twinkling eyes. _Hermione-_ whose judgement she respected and trusted above nearly everyone else's. Could she trust her on this? She thought of the spell they had yet to create, and her heart drummed a pleading _YES_ in her chest.

Then she imagined going _back_ to Malfoy, to ask for his investment, after all. And she felt like she had swallowed a mouthful of flobberworms.

"Just think about it," Hermione said, squeezing her hands. Ginny nodded.

"Enough business, can we please try to have some fun? Ginny? _Harry_?" Ron interjected, looking fed up. Harry looked indignantly up at the implication that _he_ was having a part in hindering the fun.

"_Yes,"_ said Ginny emphatically, before anyone could say anything more. They all got up and moved towards the living room, where they were received most exuberantly by the rest of the Weasleys, and the Order.

Ginny knew she was in danger by the fact that she felt light once more.

Her heart had once again become stuck to the notion of carrying out the new magic she and Hermione had thought up, and she knew her decision had all but been made. Her heart almost always won out over her pride. Her eyes fell on Harry, talking to George across the room. _Almost_ always. A restlessness seemed to flood her heart as she watched the two boys, tall and dark-featured, stocky and red-haired, but practically brothers all the same.

This particular 'almost' nagged at her emotions more and more every day. She _knew_ herself, and she was not one to fall short at _almosts_. The heart of the sixteen year-old Ginny Weasley had not even known the word. How had she blinked and let six years go by, waiting passively, ignoring her feelings, like someone she didn't even know?

_When was the last time she had taken a leap?_

An hour later, Ginny found herself flopping exhaustedly onto the couch, after a particularly vigorous dancing session that had broken out in the middle of the living room. She was laughing, a little light-headed from the wine Ron and George had all but forced on her, and she felt _happy_. She would swallow her pride, she had decided in a moment of rebellious determination. She would try to trust to Malfoy.

Harry fell onto the couch beside her, breathing heavily, his eyes shining as he watched the rest of her family, still dancing around the room. He looked over at her, and she felt her stomach fall through space disarmingly, as it always did when he was filled with passion of some kind. For a moment he seemed poised to say something, but laughed instead, rare happiness shining on his face. Her heart ached with some deep, unnamed emotion at the sight. He moved closer to her, and she could feel the body heat of his arm practically burning her own.

Ginny couldn't stop the visible shiver that ran up her left side, and she looked automatically down at the couch for a moment, before forcing herself to look boldly into his face.

Even after they had grown close, and grown distant again in the never ending pattern they seemed to live within, he never failed to unnerve her. She felt her heartbeat pounding in her throat, and knew it showed on her face. The rapid post-dancing rise and fall of his chest counted the seconds between them. In five, his expression had changed slowly into one of unmistakable desire.

Ginny felt winded.

"I'm sorry I brought Riddle up earlier," he said in a low voice, still breathing heavily. Ginny nodded.

"It wasn't unprovoked. And it was true." she searched his eyes, unsure of what was going on. All around them, her family danced in revelry, blissfully unaware of the whole other world that existed here, on the couch. "I didn't realize I was so transparent."

He smiled, shaking his head,

"You're not to everyone else, I don't think."

They stared at each other, and Ginny felt like she was back in the moment, seven years earlier, when he had unexpectedly charged across the room after the Hogwart's Quiddich final, and kissed her.

"_Well_, Ginevra," came the sudden and rather slurred voice of George, "My vow to out-do you this year has not gone forgotten."

Ginny looked up quickly to see George, standing proudly before her and Harry, arms stretched wide, in a Father Christmas suit. She snorted with laughter.

"Merlin's beard, George, _what_ on earth-"

"-_SANTA_!" Teddy was charging across the room with the mad determination that only a four-year old can have in such moments, and everyone laughed. George scooped him up, and Ginny suddenly gasped, remembering-

"-My shopping!" she said, bringing a hand to her forehead.

"Huh?" Harry asked, looking a bit startled.

"My Christmas shopping," Ginny groaned, "I left it at _Malfoy_'s office. I completely forgot until now."

She _had_ secretly hoped that she might be able to persuade Hermione to go in her stead to talk to Malfoy. But it seemed like something in the Universe didn't want to give her a choice.

At that moment, George and Teddy tripped over Crookshanks and went careening into the Christmas Tree. Everyone spent the next five minutes in mild chaos; disentangling them, repairing squashed presents, and re-sealing smashed ornaments. Then Ginny's mum tactfully decided it was time for a night-cap to the soothing backdrop of Celestina Warbeck.

Ginny said her goodnights feeling more merry than she could have possibly _dreamed_, when she had arrived. Her cheeks felt worn from smiling and flushed from wine, as she hugged everybody goodbye. She could not help but notice that Harry, who always hugged her rather stiffly- or else one-armed- drew her in much closer, and for far longer, than was usual.

She apparated to the door of her building, and took a long, relieved breath as she turned the old fashioned key in the lock of the outside grate. She felt back on track; new and exciting things might just be in her future after all…

She crept past the door of Madame Bissette's flat. The old witch was extremely nosy, and was constantly on the lookout for indecent behavior in Ginny. The frenchwoman considered Ginny to be some sort of wild-child harlot, and would vacillate _most _peculiarly between _lecturing_ her, and trying to set her up with her son, 'Marcus'.

She made it by Madame Bissette's without hearing anyone stirring inside, and relaxed as she approached her own flat. That was, until she realized that there was _someone_ lurking in the shadows, just past the door…

* * *

_Leave a Review and Continue On to Chapter Five_


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N- _**_Sorry about the cliffhanger, and the teaser of 'continue to chapter five', silly me thought I would have loads of time to get another chapter up during Christmas, and that was very very stupid ;)_

_Thanks to everyone who has followed and reviewed this story- all the backstory is out of the way now, so the action will come faster. _

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

_The Lurker_

Ginny froze, automatically drawing her wand.

"Who's there?" she demanded a little shakily, trying to muster some authority to cover up her fright.

There was a shuffle, and a tall, thin young man emerged from the dark space beside her door, his hands raised. He looked startled to see _her _as he edged closer, white-faced and embarrassed. He was perhaps even a year or two younger than she was.

"Right. Who the _hell_ are _you_?" Ginny asked, with a clear subtext of 'why are you _lurking in my hallway after midnight_?'.

"I- Sorry- I'm Sid," he stammered, shrugging his raised hands so that he looked like an enormous, awkward praying mantis. "I'm... Draco Malfoy's assistant?"

He spoke in a high-pitched voice, as if genuinely worried that any false word might bring forth a curse from Ginny's wand. He even gave a little start as he said Malfoy's name- and Ginny knew her face must have displayed the wrath it conjured inside of her. She closed her eyes.

"_What_?" she said through gritted teeth. She opened her eyes to see 'Sid' eying her wand nervously. She lowered it slightly.

"I-" the boy hastily looked around behind him, and stooped to grab an armful of bags, which Ginny recognized instantly, "-I was told to drop these off here…"

"My shopping!" she stepped forward immediately, and took the bags from him. He flinched at the proximity of her wand hand, and she paused, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "And _why_, might I ask, are you dropping these off at one o'clock in the _morning_?"

The boy shrugged, "Master Malfoy is a night-owl."

Ginny snorted at this title, muttering under her breath,

"_Master_ Malfoy, is a _git_."

It was all there. Attached to the small bag that held the assortment of gifts for Hermione- all labeled '_Trinity Teno: Founder_'- there was a small note. Ginny turned it over.

_These are shockingly nice, Weasley._

_Pity, really, that she'll never get to use them._

_-Happy Christmas_

Ginny let out an irritated breath, and crumpled the note in her hand. Her mind was fuzzy from the wine and the _childish_ anger that Malfoy so expertly instilled in her. She turned towards his assistant.

"Where is he?" she asked impatiently.

"At… his office, I expect." Sid looked a little startled at the question. He looked positively frightened as Ginny rashly held out her arm.

"Take me there," she demanded, in the voice she had learned from her mother- the one that left no room for discussion.

Wide eyed, he took her arm, and she was sucked into the squeezing void of side-along apparition.

The reception area she landed in was huge and black, but more furnished than the one in Colloid Alley. Ginny yanked her arm away and stormed down the hallway in a haze of wine and fury, and some strange amusement at the whole situation. Behind her, she heard Sid whimper some feeble protests, but she hardly heard them. She was dimly aware that she was still in her party clothes by the racket of clacking her tiny heeled shoes made on the stone floor.

Only one light was on in the whole building; in the first room to her left. She could hear muffled voices behind the door. Without a moment's hesitation, she jerked the handle open and burst inside.

Malfoy looked up at once as she entered, and the conversation abruptly stopped. Ginny saw with some chagrin that his guest was a beautiful woman dressed in tightly fitted red robes, with matching lips and shoes. They both looked blankly shocked at her appearance. Feeling herself panting like a lioness, and imagining how she must look, Ginny could not blame them.

"_Weasley?_" Malfoy said after a few moments of stunned silence, "What the _hell_ are you doing here?!"

The woman sitting on the arm of the plush, emerald-green chair that Malfoy occupied giggled a little upon hearing Ginny's name. Ginny ignored her easily, feeling her own measure of wry amusement at how ridiculously throne-like Malfoy's chair was.

"Malfoy, what the hell are _you_ doing, sending your assistant slithering into my flat at one in the morning?" She retorted, surprised at how controlled her voice sounded.

"Shouldn't you be thanking me? You left that load of _crap_ in my office when you stormed out of here so petulantly the other day," he said without missing a beat, an angry flush creeping over his cheekbones. "Honestly- _records, jumpers, _and fake _wands_," he said in an aside to the woman by his arm, who giggled again. "I should have done your family a favor and just chucked them in the bin."

Ginny rolled her eyes at the show of superiority for his… _friend_, and threw the crumpled note that was still in her hand at him.

It landed at his feet. She thought for a slightly breathless moment that he was going to curse her for disrespecting him in his own office. The flash that went through his eyes was certainly deadly. She wondered vaguely if she was being an idiot after all; she didn't trust the sudden stabbing chill his look gave her.

She let the thought pass- bolstered by drink and the events of the night.

Eyes still locked on hers, Malfoy bent slowly to pick up the paper, and stood equally slowly to face her, like a leopard poised to attack. He unfolded it and read it in one scan.

"_Thank_ you, for your continued display of _gratitude_, Weasley," he said lazily, "I merely wanted to wish you a Happy Holiday."

His smirk and look of utter contempt said otherwise.

He waved the note, written in his own hand, idly at her, before throwing it in the fire that was crackling away beside his chair.

"You were trying to bait me," Ginny said knowingly, unable to resist a smirk of her own. "You knew that finding your assistant in the dead of night at my flat, plus your charming little note, would make me so _childishly_," she laid a delicate stress on the last word, "come down here to tell you off."

She watched him carefully. He kept his eyes and face stony, but she thought she saw the flush in his cheekbones darken. She smiled, feeling a tiny victory in her chest. He sighed, his eyes full of disdain, and turned towards the woman in red.

"Diana, I have to take care of this _pest_," he said in a low voice, practically purring into the woman's ear. Ginny wrinkled her nose.

'Diana' pouted prettily, and Malfoy grinned, lowering his voice even further to murmur something Ginny (thankfully) could not hear. The painted red lips changed course, into an equally pretty smirk, and, biting her lip sexily with shockingly white teeth, the woman held out her hand. Raising his eyebrow and fixing her with a look that Ginny could not discern, Malfoy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of coins, placing it into the dainty hand in front of him. Ginny's eyes widened as red-nailed fingers closed around the jingling purse. The woman turned and sidled past her, out of the room.

As the door closed, Ginny clapped a hand to her mouth against a wine-fueled peal of laughter that was threatening to force its way out. Malfoy's eyebrows shot up into his uncharacteristically disheveled hairline, making it clear just how far Ginny was overstepping her boundaries.

"What," he barked. Ginny covered her mouth, trying to stem the gail of giggles at the sheer absurdity of this situation.

"I- I'm sorry!" she choked, pausing to laugh into her hands again, "but- _Malfoy_- was that- a _call-girl_?"

He glared fiercely at her, and she managed to reduce her laughter to snorts and silent sniggers, so he could answer.

"No, Weasley," he spat, "but that is a shockingly foolish display of your naivety. Diana is a _friend _that I occasionally spend my time with-"

Ginny closed her eyes as she was overcome with mirth again at the sight of his rumpled anger. He looked rather like a disgruntled cockatrice.

"-Whom I _treat_ to _whatever she may desire_-"

Ginny opened her eyes abruptly as his voice raised to nearly a shout.

"-because _I _can afford to do that-"

Sensing that this was heading into boasting territory, Ginny waved her hands, hoping he would shut up then and there. His raised voice was making her head hurt.

"Alright, alright," she said quickly, "_whatever_ you say Malfoy. Just calm down."

She winced and motioned for him to lower the volume of his voice, and he stared at her.

"Are you _drunk_, Weasley?" he asked, coming closer in two swift strides to appraise her with narrowed eyes. Ginny raised an eyebrow and tried to look wearily at him; as if he was being absurd.

"No," she said cooly, with an attempt at a scoff. She pretended to scrutinize her fingernails, buffing imaginary dirt off her thumb. She looked up to see him with one eyebrow cocked, smirking with more amusement than she had ever seen on his face.

"_Well_," he said, sauntering backwards and swiping a glass of an amber liquid from the side table by his chair. "Little _Weasley_, going wild? Escaped the hawk eyes of your _brothers_, and that _mother _of yours?"

Ginny's temper flared as was only natural, hearing someone speak about her family with such a stupid, mocking, smug tone.

"Stop there before this gets ugly, Malfoy," she warned, holding up a hand. "I'm here to do business."

He leaned against his desk, taking a hearty mouthful of whatever was in his glass, and looked at her with mock surprise.

"_Oh_?" he said, widening his eyes sarcastically, "and to what do I owe this _pleasure_?"

"Who is Valois?" She asked slowly, watching him. "Who did you take that name from, I mean?"

He took another sip of his drink, swilling its contents as if to buy time.

"Valois is the name of a line of French Monarchs," he shrugged after a moment. "_Muggles_, but royalty at least."

"Right…" she said, choosing to ignore how much the last part of his statement annoyed her, "and so are Bourbon and Capet, yes?"

At this he looked swiftly up at her, lowering his glass slightly. Ginny felt that small tickle of victory again. His grey eyes searched hers, for what she was not sure, and she thought she saw mistrust in them. She was suddenly reminded of what her mum used to tell Ron about spiders when they were younger. _It's more afraid of you, than you are of it…_

"Why do you donate anonymously, Malfoy? What are you afraid of?" she said softly. She didn't know what was making her act so candidly with him tonight. Actually, it was surely the wine, but her instincts told her it was right; it was safe. Malfoy grunted a little, looking uncharacteristically unguarded.

"It's… not a matter of fear," he said, his eyes fixed on the dancing fire, somewhere behind her, "it's just business. These projects deserve to be done, and attaching my name to them, frankly, would make them disreputable. I'm aware of that." He shrugged, taking another sip from his glass. It caught the firelight, and sent a ghostly army of tiny dots of light across his face.

Ginny nodded slowly, sensing that that was as much of an answer as she was going to get. It would do for now.

"Can we do the contract spell?" she blurted, flushing when she heard her own voice. Like an excited little girl asking her parents for a puppy.

Malfoy smirked, looking at her one last time. Then he brought his glass to his lips, and tipped his head back, draining it. Putting the glass on his desk with a soft 'clunk', he nodded, bringing his hands to his chest to check his pockets for his wand.

Ginny stared, feeling a quiet sort of disbelieving joy thrumming in her heart.

Surely it couldn't be _this_ easy. She had prepared herself for an unbearable saga of arguing and loosing face; admitting she had been too quick to act, too stubborn, too prideful. She had not prepared herself to storm into his office in the dead of night, scaring away his maybe-hooker, and loosing herself to laughter in the process. She had _certainly_ not prepared herself for the quiet, easy sort of silence that filled the room now as he crossed it to fetch his wand from his desk, ruffling papers gently to pull out her and Hermione's proposal.

A smile had spread uncontrollably across her face at the sheer ludicrousness of this situation, when he turned back around.

"What," he asked suspiciously, when he caught sight of her expression. Ginny shook her head quickly, attempting to wipe the smile off her face.

"I'm just- pleased," she said disjointedly, pulling out her own wand, "We worked really hard for this."

Malfoy made a disinterested noise of acknowledgement, obviously tiring of her 'Weasley Earnesty'.

"Yeah, well," he said, back to his usual bored drawl, "I would be lying if I said I wasn't attached to what your proposal entails. Make no mistake Weasley, I am not a man to be walked over; if I had my way you would have begged _much_ more for a second chance at my investment-"

Ginny opened her mouth to say something cheeky, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"-but something tells me that for _you_, the act of coming here at all is as close to begging as I'm going to get. Plus it's late, I'm exhausted, and I have a _friend_ waiting for me at my place. So let's get this over with."

Ginny was relieved to find that she could keep a straight face at the mention of his 'Diana', and nodded seriously, holding her non-wand arm out. He took her hand, both of them looking steely at the slightly awkward experience of joining hands with someone you distinctly don't like, and they raised their wands.

He muttered the incantation, and ribbons of orange light snaked out of both of their wands, swirling and dancing continuously through the parchment between them, and around and _around_ both of their bodies. The firelight seemed to glow brighter as Malfoy's low voice rose with intensity, and Ginny felt excitement and trepidation fill her stomach in equal measure as she stood in the middle of the black-stone office.

For better or for worse, she was voluntarily tethering herself, in the dead of night in a dark and abandoned building, to Draco Malfoy.

* * *

_Please take thirty seconds to leave a review:)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks for your reviews! This is a long one, but it's all important, I promise._

_:) - Amie_

* * *

_Christmas At The Burrow_

"_Mum_!"

Ginny cursed under her breath, looking hopefully over her shoulder for her mother, as two of the pots on the stove bubbled over at the same time. "Oh, stop it- stop it!"

She batted furiously at a stream of thick black smoke that was leaking from the oven, and shot a hasty cooling spell at one of the pots. This proved unwise as the pot in question, which was mortally hot, started rattling alarmingly against the burner as her spell struck it. Ginny cursed again, knowing she must resemble a chicken with its head cut off, and feeling glad that there was no one else in the kitchen to witness it-

"-Hey, do you know where my old Canon's- _WHAT?" _

As if sensing that their dinner was in peril, Ron had entered the kitchen, closely followed by Harry. With a look of highest alarm, Ron rocketed over to Ginny, who was cautiously pulling the oven open to peek inside. "_What's this_?! Ginny! You know you're not supposed to be in the kitchen unsupervised! "

Ginny all but growled, straightening to give her godforsaken closest-brother the harshest glare she could manage.

"I know!" She snapped, because bloody_ hell_, he was right. She fanned the rapidly clouding air between them with the nearest dishtowel she could find, "but mum called me in here to keep an eye on things- she hasn't been gone two minutes-"

With a whine and a crash, the lid flew off of the rattling pot, ricocheting off the ceiling and falling into the sink full of soapy water with an almighty splash. Ron hollered as they were doused, protectively pulling Ginny out of harm's way (what the danger was she did not know, but she appreciated it as much as she could under the circumstances.)

"Well why the bloody hell did you let her go?!" He shouted, wiping soap and water out of his eyes and off his nose, "_MUM_!"

"Shut _up_, Ron, you yelled _directly_ into my ear just then!"

"What seems to be the trouble in here?" George made a gallant entrance, taking a knee and holding his wand like King Arthur's sword.

"_Ginny_ was left in charge of Christmas Dinner," Ron said pointedly, gesturing to the stove, which was now a mess of smoke, curdled gravy, and overflowing cider. George looked uncharacteristically annoyed, and stood up without theatrics, running a hand through his hair,

"Well I officially revoke my services… _not_ my area of expertise," he flopped down crossly into a chair at the table, next to a very amused Harry, "I'm bloody _hungry_, what did she do that for? We'll never eat now."

"_RIGHT_. If either of you say another _word_, I will hex you until you are no more than a pile of mush on the-"

"-stovetop?" George offered mock-helpfully. Ginny ignored him, and chose to shut her mouth in favor of trying to sort out the imminent smell of burning plastic that was issuing from the oven.

"Oh, dear!" Molly had entered the kitchen at last, to a nebula of smoke, and three accusatory glares from her youngest children. She bustled over to the stove, shooing Ron and Ginny out of the way, waving her wand in a flurry of fast charms. The air began to clear, and the alarming sounds of overheating cookware began to subside. "Ginny, what _did_ you do? I was only gone a minute… but oh, never mind, its nothing I can't fix."

"Ginny doesn't have to _do_ anything to cause calamity in the kitchen, mum, we all know that," George said with twinkling eyes as he got up to peer over their mother's shoulder, sour mood evidently gone with the news that dinner was salvageable. He steered Ginny by the shoulders to the chair he had just vacated, pushing her lightly into it, and tossing an issue of 'Witch Weekly' down in front of her, eyes still shining maddeningly. "Go on, Gin. For the sake of your hungry family. Take a load off, read about the latest _coif-charms_ and 'celebrity' gossip, and let us handle the cooking."

He rolled up his sleeves importantly, winking. Ginny shook her head at him, itching for her wand. Across the room, Ron was admonishing their mother gently. Ginny distinctly heard him mutter, "I don't know what you were thinking…", as he patted her back in a 'that's alright- we all make mistakes' sort of way. She slumped in her chair. Harry, sitting across from her, caught her gaze. He had taken his silent seat to watch the drama unfold, and was now watching her with dancing eyes and broad, relaxed shoulders. Ginny tried to glare at him as well, but found herself fighting a smile. This was not the first incident of its kind.

"Blimey, that was close," Ron sat down between them, his face alight with a similar humor. He crossed his arms and leaned daringly back in his chair, so the front legs left the ground, raising his eyebrows mock-chidingly at Ginny, "nearly had ourselves a repeat of _last_ Christmas Dinner, there."

Ginny smacked him soundly with the dishtowel she was still holding, but found that she was suppressing a giggle. "Right. That's _it_, Ron. Don't act like you saved the day- you came in here just as uselessly as me."

"Well I didn't make it_ worse_," he pointed out, before leaning in with a '_thunk_' of chair legs and dropping his voice, "which is why I'm bloody glad it wasn't Hermione who found you. The girl's bloody brilliant at every branch of magic in the book, but somehow, cooking just sort of…." he made a discreet motion of something just 'slipping by'. Harry found Ginny's eyes over the scuffed dining table and pulled another smile out of her at this endearing truth.

"Honestly, you all," Molly, having set everything impossibly right again, was fixing them all with looks of reproach as she tucked her wand back into her pocket, "well into your twenties, and helpless as first years!"

But she was smiling, and Ginny knew she was pleased that in _this _way at least, her children were still very much… children.

The whole event had actually made it feel much more like a true family Christmas, and Ginny felt rather warm inside as she listened to the sounds of George teasing her mother good-natured-ly, _gently _bubbling pots, and Ron and Harry discussing the upcoming Professional Quidditch season. For a moment she considered joining in on the latter conversation. The fact that _she herself_ was now a Pro League Quidditch player was still deliciously novel, and she loved the newfound feeling of jumping in when the men in her family were talking Quidditch and actually being _listened to_ as an _authority_… and not just the annoying kid-sister. She was now the annoying kid-sister with some actual credibility! ... And that was still thrilling.

After a few moments of listening to Ron and Harry's deep voices; rolling and rising with passion and disbelief, indignance and enthusiasm- she realized it would content her more to just listen, and settled for opening the copy of Witch Weekly instead.

She had hardly ever paid the pages of this particular publication much attention, and found herself entering a bizarre new world. '_He Wants to Snog them? - No Problem!' _read the headline of an instructional article on no-smear lipstick charms. _'_

_'FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM- Where ARE All The Good Wizards Hiding?'_

Ginny wrinkled her nose.

She was just about to give the magazine up and join in the Quidditch debate after all, when her brain registered a familiar face as her left hand fanned through the remaining articles. She smoothed the glossy page out and stared at the dazzling picture of Harry as the boys' voices increased in intensity across the table. He was in dark dress robes, making his way through a crowd of people in similarly formal attire. He stood tall and relaxed, but Ginny smiled as she saw his face, which betrayed an impatience with the whole thing. It was well masked though, as he greeted other witches and wizards politely, and she doubted that anyone who didn't know Harry would catch it.

Her smile became a tad fixed as she followed the outline of the Harry on the page. Attached to his left hand and looking ecstatic where he looked slightly miserable, was Gwendolyn. Her long blonde hair was braided around her head in a classic, almost mythical fashion, and her eyes and teeth sparkled alike in the flashbulbs. The hand that was not affixed to Harry's was clasped to her dainty collarbone, porcelain skin creamy against the spring green of her dress, as she laughed vivaciously with an equally beautiful witch she was passing.

Ginny felt her stomach constrict, and her heart started to beat a little faster in warning.

_Cut it out, Ginny_.

She tried to shake herself, but her eyes seemed to be glued to the page.

_Blasted-buggering-bloody-bollocks._

She had worked so hard to put these sorts of feelings behind her, and while it was true she had never _quite_ taken to Gwendolyn, the sinking in her heart felt more dangerously close to how it used to feel, watching Harry with other witches.

_Do not be absurd, Ginevra Weasley._

In her short lifetime, she had been through such a laughable array of emotions where Harry was concerned, that some days it was actually embarrassing to think about. But she could feel the hillside of defense she had built in her heart beginning to crumble lately; all the little villagers that made up her resolve struggling desperately to keep their footing- keep from sliding and tumbling back to the base of it all.

Something subtle had changed between them in the last week. She was confident at least that she was past the point of reading into everything Harry did, _looking_ for more than was there. Something in him _had_ changed towards her. She would catch him looking at her for a beat longer than was normal. She would notice him going out of his way to make small-talk with her, where usually they would talk for strictly as long as felt natural, and no longer.

And she could not help but notice Gwendolyn's absence at the Burrow lately… even though the photo of them was dated to only a few days ago.

She made herself take a deep breath.

What was he doing? Surely he must feel as clearly as she did, that their relationship had been lost to the silence that stretches on for too long after a statement. After a certain point, the moment to jump back in with the _perfect_ thing to say, is just gone. Surely he knew that the impossible balance that they had struck in their family life would be at stake? Of this, she _was_ sure. Harry was acutely aware of his cherished position within the Weasley family, and any sort of threat to it stressed him out a hundred times more than it did any of them.

But he was also Harry, and was not exactly known for his unerring ability to think carefully before acting on his feelings.

What was _she_ doing, for that matter? It took two, and she was certainly not thrusting down with an iron foot.

Unless you called sitting at her parent's kitchen table, drinking in a tabloid photo of him in his best robes, a display of her fierce and unbending will.

_Stop it now. Blink. _

But the seconds trickled by and she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the Harry on the page. Harry, the way that the rest of the world saw him. Tall and noble and frayed around the edges in a way that made teenage girls coo and awe as he walked by. Another smile tugged at Ginny's lips as she remembered a day when she had been with Harry and Ron in Diagon Alley and _precisely_ that had happened. She didn't think she would ever again see so much mortified horror, and so much unbridled glee, on Harry and Ron's faces- respectively.

"Oh, so _that's_ where you've all gotten to."

Ginny was saved the task of looking up by her own will, as Hermione's voice floated into the kitchen. She was smiling at the boys sitting preemptively at the table, and at George's ravenous overseeing of the cooking.

"Yeah. And where've you been?" Ron caught her by the waist when she got close enough and pulled her into his lap. Hermione shrieked softly, but fell quite happily into Ron's chest. He blew a rogue lock of her hair out of his face.

"Mmm, catching up with Percy-"

"-Oh, sorry," Ron smirked, "Didn't mean to leave you marooned-"

"-Not at all, it was a lovely chat. What are you reading, Ginny?"

Hermione was peering at the upside-down magazine. Ginny felt a hint of a blush creep into her cheeks, and tried to chuckle.

"Oh, actually," she looked teasingly at the green eyes across from her, "I was just catching up on your latest press-clippings, Harry."

"Oh-ho! 'England's most _beautiful_ couples'," Ron read, sniggering as he peered out from Hermione's mane of hair. "Cor, up in the ranks of _Malfoy_, Harry! You lucky, beautiful, son of a gun."

Hermione giggled, and Harry nodded dully, looking immediately irritable. Ginny however, had not taken notice of anyone else on the page, and looked interestedly at the photo opposite Harry's.

It was indeed of Malfoy… and _Diana_! The woman that Ginny had so jovially met only a few nights earlier. She hastily scanned the caption.

_'Draco Malfoy, and Diana Farrington made heads snap in their direction at the Ministry's Annual Auror's Yule Gala. Not only are they a delectable sight to behold, but together, this power-couple is rumored to be worth more than England's entire ministry! Malfoy, who was a guest of honor after donating a new training facility to the program, did not disappoint with his choice in date. According to a source close to Farrington…'_

"Who is this?" Ginny asked abruptly, brows knitted together. Hermione leaned closer.

"… Diana… Farrington?" she read, cocking her head.

"Yes I gathered that much, but who is she?"

"The Farringtons are an old pureblood family, I think. Old money, old values, that type," Ron said, tilting his head to get a look at the picture. "Blimey, how did _Malfoy_ land that?!"

Ginny frowned at the photo. It was definitely the girl Malfoy had paid for _something_ in his office. But if Ron was right… The children of 'Old Money' families certainly didn't need paying for anything.

"Diana Farrington?" George's ears had perked up across the kitchen. He was looking up, over a kumquat he was peeling. "She's a model, isn't she? Lee was ruddy obsessed with her when we were at Hogwarts. Her posters covered half our dorm- don't tell me Malfoy has risen above karma itself and actually bagged her?"

"He has according to the oracle," Ginny fanned the page of _Witch Weekly_ wryly. George grimaced.

"Well I'd say _that's_ a case of tabloid rubbish. There's just no logical way."

"Yeah," Ginny looked at the photo again, "although- when I went to his office the other night, she was there."

She felt all four heads turn towards her. She had not been very descriptive of her less-than-formal late night meeting with Malfoy.

"And?" George looked boyishly interested. Ginny smiled, wondering if he would owl Lee immediately. She shrugged,

"And… that was all, really. She was just… there. I didn't speak to her. I actually thought she might have been a call-girl."

Molly '_tsk_'-ed from the stove, and Ron snorted. "Not the most unfounded assumption, it is Malfoy after all."

"Right? I thought it seemed fitting, but he took offense!"

"Fancy that."

"Hold on," Hermione was holding out a hand, looking pained. "Please don't tell me you actually accused Malfoy's girlfriend of being a… a -_prostitute_?"

"Oh, no," Ginny shook her head earnestly, "not until she left."

Hermione groaned. Ron grinned.

"Ginny, you have to _try_ to have some kind of professional respect for Malfoy," there was a small edge of bitterness in Hermione's voice, "like it or not, he's practically our boss now."

The word _Malfoy_ and _boss_ in the same sentence made Ginny feel ill.

"Bugger, he's _your_ boss now too. I nearly forgot," Ron said to Hermione, looking like Ginny felt, "that's a horrible thought. I don't like it one bit."

"Seems it's an easy thing to forget," Hermione said primly, a _definite_ edge to her voice now. Ginny had made two very rash and very independent decisions regarding their project this week. She blushed, feeling guilty.

"He's _not_ our boss," Ginny said quickly, partly to keep Hermione from dwelling on the rift they had managed to patch solely because it was Christmas Day, and partly because Ron's irrational mistrust of Malfoy made him seem rather crazy… and she knew it mirrored her own exactly. She was in no mood for self-reflection, "he's just an investor. A _silent_ investor. Hopefully he's the same lazy Malfoy, and he'll just give us our funds and let us work."

She said this with much bravado, but doubt nagged at her gut. She thought of the note she had received this morning.

'_I'll need to meet with Granger to perform the contract spell with her. _

_And we need to discuss some of the sloppier details of the Protection Act before we proceed. _

_Your proposal makes absolutely no mention of the Wizarding legal system. Trivial thing, Weasley, easy to overlook. _

_I'm sending it to my lawyers to root out what is and what is not within legal constraint, and we will most likely have some re-writing to do._

_Also, I don't know if you were trying to dumb it down in order to find an investor, but we need to talk about the overall structure of your plan._

_Be in my office at one o'clock sharp on Thursday. If I'm not there, wait._

_Oh. And Happy Christmas. Let your hovel be bright._

_- Draco Malfoy'_

She tried to keep the reassuring smile on her face, as she had not yet shown the note to Hermione. Why ruin her Christmas?

_**-WWWW-**_

Dinner was, 'shockingly and thankfully' as George put it, _delicio__us._

The table was magically expanded to hold the weight of a feast and seat Ginny's entire family, as well as her older brother's spouses and children, plus Kingsley, Mundungus, and Arabella Figg. Ms. Figg was very quirky company indeed. Ginny spent half the meal trying to figure out if her and Mundungus were some sort of strange item, but the older woman was endearingly genuine, and she had _stories_ about Harry's childhood.

Ginny tried to keep her fascination muted as she listened to Ms. Figg talk, encouraged uproariously by all of her brothers and Hermione, who had never _dreamed_ of meeting someone who could tell them about Harry's younger years. Harry sat at the opposite end of the table from Ginny, looking embarrassed and ill-tempered… but also sheepishly pleased. Ginny suspected he quite liked the feeling of having someone there who had known him since he was a tot. Ginny thought of all the thousands of times her brothers and her mother and father had told embarrassing stories about _her _childhood.

She realized with a skipped beat of her heart that Harry, at age twenty-three, was now experiencing that feeling for the first time.

"Ooo, and I remember the time, when you were just a wee thing, Harry, four or five, and the Dursleys wanted to take Dudley out on a day at the fair. And they dropped you on my doorstep all out of sorts," Ms. Figg turned one squinting, fond eye on Harry, who Ginny was amused to see was blushing, "and I had forgotten to put away my magical cleaning supplies- things they sell for squibs, see," she explained to the group at large, "brooms and rags and sponges that you can order-pre-charmed. Just free them from the box, and off they go! But anyways, dear, your Aunt handed you to me, and you were gutted that you had to stay behind, but ohhh, boy, when your eyes fell onto the rags, wiping the walls themselves! You squirmed right out of my arms and dashed over to them! And you just stood there, yay high, and _smiling_ like you knew where you belonged…"

Molly made a soft, mother-hen noise, and Harry flushed even deeper.

"But why didn't your Aunt and Uncle take you along with them?" Hermione asked, her elbows propped on the table, chin resting in her hands. Harry started a little, smiling at her with a shrug.

"Oh, I don't know. Probably afraid I'd get up to something funny."

"But you were only four!"

Harry smiled again, with another shrug. Ginny could sense both her mother and Hermione beginning to grow irate with the goings-on of nineteen years ago, and could also sense that Harry's smile seemed a little worn. She cleared her throat.

"Did you ever accidentally do magic around Muggles?" she asked with genuine curiosity, "Before you knew you were a wizard, I mean?"

Harry nodded, looking relieved at the change of subject.

"Oh, yeah. At school once, Dudley and his friends were chasing me, and all of a sudden, I was on the roof," he smiled as her brothers chuckled, "and once I accidentally vanished the glass in a snake display at the zoo- I had been talking to the Boa Constrictor- and it went after Dudley. At least he thought so."

Ginny grinned appreciatively. Harry gave her a faltering smile of thanks.

"When I was in primary school, I once set a pack of library books on some girls who were teasing me," Hermione said with a sly smile, "Remember that book that Hagrid assigned us in our third year? Very reminiscent of that. Only there were about twenty of them- the library was ruined."

The conversation was effectively commandeered by Ron's delighted interrogations of this incident, and why, in thirteen years, Hermione had never told him that _she_ of all people, had singlehandedly destroyed a library at age eight.

The rest of dinner, as well as desert, was spent regaling stories of accidental childhood magic, with each member of the mishmash-extended-Weasley family trying to outdo the rest. In the end, it was decided that Molly just might take the cake, for at age seven somehow hexing Aunt Muriel into an exotic-shorthair cat, much like Crookshanks, where she stayed trapped for days until Molly's late Uncle Edmund realized that the rogue cat was his _wife_, and not an ugly stray.

Ginny left the table feeling full and warm as her brothers sidled into the living room, and she and Hermione stayed behind to help Molly wash up. Ten minutes and twenty scrubbing, polishing, vanishing, banishing, and packing spells later, the women gave each other satisfied smiles and left the sparkling kitchen to join the rest, lying low as their stomachs digested the Christmas Feast.

Seeing her moment to have a few minutes alone beckoning, Ginny grabbed her favorite down-blanket from the back of the couch, a butterbeer from the collection on the coffee table, and slipped outside. She shrugged the blanket around her shoulders, and made her way to the front porch, cracking open the bottle as she padded barefoot onto the chilled wooden slats.

The moon was nearly full, hanging heavily in the sky, casting shadows around the Burrow's lawn with its pearly light. Ginny breathed deeply as she looked at it, feeling some part of her gain peace from the still night air. Her breath hung in clouds of mist around her as her only quiet company.

"Aren't you freezing?"

_Bloody-_

Ginny jumped, cursing with shock, as Harry's voice came from the shadowed swing in the corner.

"Sorry," he laughed, shrugging one shoulder sheepishly, "That was unavoidable. I figured you'd be more startled if you turned around and saw me."

"Thanks," Ginny said dryly, making her way over to him, "glad you spared me a fright."

He moved over with a _creak_ of old wood and hinges, so she could sit beside him. The swing rocked gently as she sat down.

"Seriously though, do you need some socks? Kreacher bestowed a pair on me for Christmas. I could summon them from Ron's room?"

Ginny shook her head quickly, feeling the familiar longing, as well as a hundred questions, spring up in her heart at this simplest of gestures.

"No, don't worry about me, I have a plan," she smiled down at the feet in question, unable to meet his gaze, which she could practically feel casting its warmth over her. "Erm… would you like to partake?"

She spread the blanket open to its full capacity, and looked up at him expectantly, extremely aware of how difficult it was to keep her face casual. _This is absurd_. Harry nodded and she could see the same struggle in his features. Throwing the pillowy fabric over them both, she tucked her feet tightly against her body, and cast a heating spell inside the blanket's cocoon. Harry smiled,

"Brilliant. Thanks."

She nodded, unsure of what to do with herself. Staring at the moon seemed a safe option.

_So much for peaceful alone time._ Being in a room filled with all her brother's voices at once would not produce half this much edginess in her nerves.

"So…" Harry started, and Ginny wanted to wince as his voice trailed away with no sign of bouncing back. The swing creaked again and she felt his body shudder as he laughed unexpectedly, rubbing his hands roughly over his face. "This is fucking ridiculous."

The tension in Ginny's chest seemed to burst, and she felt her emotions break into free flow once more, as laughter took her too.

"It is. Poetically put."

"Why is it like this?" Harry looked at her with incredulous amusement.

Simple honesty warmed the air between them instantly, and Ginny suddenly found it much easier to meet his eyes. She didn't felt the need to hide the giddiness that being alone with him produced in her. They were friends- they had always found a special bond in their shared sense of humor. She didn't need to pretend that wasn't the case.

"I have no idea," she laughed, punctuating it with a sigh, "something feels different."

"Yeah."

She had looked over to watch him carefully, as he answered to his hands in a low voice. Silence fell again.

"Got something for you," he said. Ginny looked up again to see him fishing for something in his pocket. He turned towards her as he handed it over- a brick-shaped box wrapped roughly in gold paper, "It won't hurt you- it's not from Fred and George's. Promise."

Ginny had taken it slowly, as if it would explode at any moment, which seemed to amuse him. He nudged her to open it, and she tugged at the clear tape with an unsteady finger. The wrapping slipped off easily, revealing a stately looking wooden box. Looking up at him tentatively, Ginny opened it.

It was a Golden Snitch. It unfolded its wings when the lid was lifted, but could only shudder slightly in the black velvet groove it was rested in. She scanned it closely, quite unsure of its significance, noting that it was scuffed and discolored in places.

"It was Roderick Plumpton's."

"_WHAT_?!" Ginny gasped, her head snapping up, eyes wide. Harry grinned at her reaction, looking a little relieved.

"That's the three-second Snitch," he said, seemingly with baited breath. Ginny's mouth fell open, and then spread into a ridiculous grin. _Roderick Plumpton's Snitch_. The _legendary_, fastest catch in history.

"You've got to be kidding."

Harry chuckled, and she could see he was fighting to keep his grin from spreading as wide as hers. He shrugged, glancing up at the moon. Ginny drank in his angular profile.

"Yeah, I… did a favor for his grandson, Connor. He's not the Quiddich type at all- I don't think he even really cared about its significance," Harry shook his head in disbelief, "But he insisted that I take it, and I wasn't going to- but it, well, it reminded me of you. I know he's your hero. Thought it would make a good gift."

"_Good_?" Ginny spluttered, "Harry, this is absolutely amazing!"

Harry's eyes lit up at her expletive, and he looked at her for a long moment.

"I'm glad you like it."

Ginny picked it up gingerly, trying to make herself understand that she was touching the same Snitch that Roderick Plumpton had touched. Chaser she may be, but the legendary Seeker was every inspirational reason she had stuck with her passion for Quidditch.

"It's incredible. Thank you," her voice died in her throat as she looked back at him, that same, thrumming charge between them that had been there at the Christmas Party a week earlier. Her mind flashed to the present she had gotten _him_- a gag gift of a collection of 'Harry Potter Action Figures' that she had stumbled upon to her great amusement, in Diagon Alley. She flushed. He smiled, as if sensing what she was thinking.

"Thank _you_ for your present. You know how I love a good ego-boost."

Ginny grinned, despite her embarrassment.

"Yes, well, what with the world so distracted by Gwendolyn lately, I thought it might give you a little lift to know you have not yet been forgotten."

He chuckled, though a tad stiffly. Ever since they had started dating, the press had not left Gwendolyn, who was beautiful and charming and easy to be enamored with, alone. Ginny didn't feel too sorry for her though- she seemed to quite enjoy the attention.

"Yeah, they sure are watching _that_ closely. Much more closely than things like say, the election, or the actual work us Aurors have been doing…"

His voice was suddenly bitter, and even in the dark, Ginny could see a shadow fall into his eyes. The mention of Gwendolyn's name seemed to have hardened the easy air around them, and they sat in slight tension again. Ginny couldn't stop herself from breaking it. She was tired of the tiptoeing around they seemed to be stuck within.

"Harry, what's going on?" she said bluntly. "Where _is_ Gwendolyn?"

He didn't answer for a good twenty seconds. Instead, he stared out into the front yard, running a hand through his hair, and leaning his head back against the aged wood. He made a deep, indecisive noise, and Ginny's pulse quickened, feeling the low vibration resonate through the wood of the swing.

"She's with her family for the Holidays. We…" he was choosing his words carefully, in that cagey and ever-frustrating way that he did, "we thought it would be good to take some time apart. Think about things."

"Why?" Ginny asked quietly, wondering if she wanted to hear the answer. Half of her was afraid to know anything, and the other half was ravenous to know everything.

"Because she wants me to marry her."

Ginny noted with some panic, how deeply this statement struck her. She felt as though she had been walloped in the stomach, and barely had time to wonder _when_ all her defenses had crumbled so completely, before her mind started racing to fill in everything Harry _wasn't_ saying.

"Oh."

Was all that came out.

"Yeah," Harry let out a long sigh, seeming suddenly frustrated. He raked his hand through his hair again, reaching a point of dishevelment that was rare even for him. "Which is bloody insane, if you ask me. Honestly-"

He laughed a humorless kind of laugh, and Ginny could almost feel the energy around him buzzing. When Harry was worked up, she seemed to be drawn into his orbit as easily as the moon, hanging pregnantly above them, was to the earth. She could feel her own emotions starting to pump in overdrive.

"- we're so young, and we haven't even known each other that long. And I'm just- _busy_. I don't know if that's selfish, or, or what, but I am stretched so bloody thin, Ginny," he turned desperate eyes on her, "I work and train every day all day, and then it's appearances for charity, an interview for this paper because it will save _hippogriffs_ in some ruddy way that I can't quite conceive of, but I can't say no because it's my responsibility somehow. And every single fucking thing I do is watched so carefully- and there's this- this _expectation_-"

His voice was rising in speed and intensity, and Ginny felt herself holding her breath, heart hammering. She had not seen Harry like this in years. Not since they were at Hogwarts, and the world was slowly collapsing all around them, and he was literally in the center of it all, struggling to fight, to make sense of it. He had become _known_ for his stoicism, his noble shouldering of responsibility without complaint, ever since the war had ended. But she could always sense the frenzied overrun that lurked inside of him. Whether he kept it entirely to himself, or occasionally let loose on Hermione and Ron, she did not know. But he had not been so open with _her_ in six years.

"-that if I _don't _ act, _don't_ do the heroic or noble thing- I- fuck."

His emotions seemed to have surpassed his ability to put words to them in time, and he stopped abruptly, shaking his head cynically at the moonlit lawn, rubbing a hand absently over his chin.

"I know," Ginny said softly, because she knew that was all that he really wanted to hear. Just a simple acknowledgement that his tireless efforts did not go unnoticed.

She put a hand on his forearm, which was resting on his leg where he was gripping his knee tightly. The muscles under her fingers jerked at her touch, but then relaxed slightly. She felt like she was touching one of dad's sockets, a grievous mistake that she had made once as a girl, as a current seemed to travel up her arm through the hand that was touching his skin.

"Well," she said slowly, trying to break down the problem at hand. Her heart raced for a few paces before she forced out, "do you love her?"

Harry looked at her quickly, taken aback. Ginny rather thought he had lost the thread of what had started their conversation. He looked into her eyes for longer than she was comfortable with; the ferocity in them made her blood pound with longing.

"Yes," he said slowly. Ginny felt her heart crack alarmingly. She should _not be feeling this way_. He furrowed his brow in frustration, and looked back at the lawn, "I don't know."

"Well," she said evenly. "That's a good place to start. Figure it out."

"I know," he snapped, "that's the point of her not being around this past week."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at his rudeness, and he looked back at her, quailing slightly.

"Sorry."

She was about to muster her courage, take a deep breath, and ask why all of this was so obviously causing something to change between him and _herself_, but he beat her to it.

"To be honest, Ginny, I just don't seem to be able to shake the thought of _you_ lately."

His voice was nothing but irritated, and if her heart hadn't swooped so magnificently at the implication of his words, she might just have been insulted.

"Me?" she asked tentatively.

"You." He scowled even harder at the daphne bush across the lawn.

"I'm flattered," she said caustically, which effectively made him meet her eyes at last.

"Sorry," he sighed again. He looked so tired. "It's just- well- you know what a bloody mess that is."

"I do," she said calmly, "but I thought it _was_ a bloody mess that is now behind us."

He gave her a look, but even that made her heart soar. She and Harry hadn't been able to speak this frankly and with this much _actual _ emotion, for so long.

"You know that's rubbish," he leaned back in the swing, his hand brushing her thigh by accident. They both pulled away from the contact, and a shiver ran up Ginny's back. She scooted over a few inches, not trusting herself to touch him in any way, shape, or form right now. "It _should _be in the past. It's been _six_ years. But Gwendolyn asked me how I felt about marrying her, and I realized that all I could think about was 'I can't, because then things with Ginny would actually be over'."

He laughed humorlessly again,

"And that's ridiculous, because there has been _nothing_ between us for six years, but I realized that I couldn't get past that thought- and… I don't know what to do with it."

Ginny sat in a surreal, stunned silence, feeling as though the world had just turned inside out.

_What_?

The silence stretched on, and Harry eventually looked over at her. He seemed to realize how deeply he had fallen into ranting, and to _whom_ he was ranting, and blanched a little.

"Ginny." He reached out and took her hand, and the shiver returned to her spine. His hands were bigger now, she realized dimly. She pulled it away before she lost the thin control she had over herself.

"I need to think," she said stupidly, staring at the worn porch and feeling her brain actually struggling to form more English words, in the haze of baffling thoughts now rocketing around inside of it.

"Look at me."

He spoke softly, and she did. He was appraising her with concerned eyebrows. As he did. She could see his rash mood wearing off, and the usual, Harry-apprehension starting to kick in. He was worried that he had already ruined something; he would try to fix it now.

"I need to think," she repeated, looking into his eyes, dark grey in the moonlight. He nodded, eyes roaming over her face for any immediate damage. When he found none, he smiled ironically,

"Me too."

"I have no idea how to process all that." Her voice felt quite stuporous, and she stared at him with blank abandon.

"Well I have an action figure that might be able to help you. Great little bloke, a friend gave him to me. 'Harry Uses The Pensieve', he's called- according to the packaging."

His eyes were twinkling.

"Definitely not. I think I'll sort this one out myself, thanks." She smiled weakly.

He nodded, and an unsure silence fell as he got up off the creaking swing.

"I'll- ah… I should leave you before I speak anymore." He gave her a crooked smile and one last, lingering and slightly puzzled look, before turning to walk inside.

And Ginny was left, alone in her warm cocoon, in the chilly December air that she grew up in- completely numb to it all; lost in her wild thoughts.

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N- Hello, all :)_

_ So here is another chapter! Things are MOVING ALONG! I finished this in a bit of a hurry and did not proofread, but I wanted to get it up tonight because I am going out and have a busy few days ahead of me! So excuse any truly terrible mistakes, I hope there are none, but I will comb through it later tonight or tomorrow. _

_I must say, I got ahead of myself, just for fun, and wrote some experimental Ginny/Malfoy scenes that are yet to come, and let me say- I am so effing excited. Such sexy fun._

_Thank you all for reading, for reviewing, you are awesome! Here's to you._

_- Amie_

* * *

_The Face of the Harpies_

"He _WHAT_?!"

Hermione dropped her carry-away cup of tea with a _splat_ and a, "Drat."

Ginny had surprised even herself with her composure over the last few days. More numb with shock than anything, she had kept Harry's revelations (most uncharacteristically) to herself. She had sat in a kind of dazed shock on the swing until that internal nudge, telling her that one or more of her _obnoxious_ brothers was bound to have started wondering about her prolonged absence, nagged at her to go in. She had stood, brought to her senses by the icy porch on her bare feet, and with one wide-eyed look at herself in the black glass of the kitchen window, had joined the rest in the living room as though it was still just Christmas- and not a crack in time itself.

She had spent the next day (or two) in a sort of giddy reverie. After vowing to herself that she would _not _fantasize about, or dwell upon, Harry in any way, shape, or form until she knew what on Earth was going on, she had spent most of the day snapping herself out of of impure thoughts and premature daydreams.

It was impossible to keep his words out of her head. She would be making a pot of tea, and his voice would float into her mind, prompted by the igniting of the burners, the groaning of her old faucet.

_To be honest, Ginny, I just don't seem to be able to shake the thought of you lately._

And then her sense had caught up.

Her good-old-rational-_common sense_, which reminded her that she was pitching herself headfirst off of the impossible cliff she had built to fortress her young heart, after all the things it had been forced to know already. She was hurling herself, like so many fools before her, into a sea of sharks, just because she thought she caught the tail of something that looked more like a dolphin.

Her unconscious mind would relive their parting. Cloaked in the bustle of all the Weasleys and Co saying their goodnights to one another, he had gripped her gently by the shoulders, searching her eyes deliberately for one last assurance that she was indeed okay. She had raised an eyebrow and smiled exasperatedly. _Yes, you fool, I'm fine_. And with a look of open adoration, he had pulled her in tightly for a long hug, chuckling into her hair.

_Why_? This blissful unconscious part of her mind would ask- _why can't I dwell on _this?

_Because_, her common sense would say, _because Harry has a girlfriend. Because it's been six years. Because you are practically family. Because it's plunging back into Pandora's Box. Because, because, because, because, because…._

And on it went. Until, by today, Ginny found that she felt quite insane. The task of carrying on normal conversation with Hermione had been just that: a _task_. And finally she had not been able to bear the argumentative frenzy in her head alone for another moment. And had blurted the basics to Hermione in a face-in-palms rush on their walk from the Teashop in Diagon Alley to Malfoy's Colloid Alley office. They had been going over the list of Ginny's 'Do's' and 'Dont's' in terms of her professional behavior, but she had simply not been able to concentrate, to Hermione's panic.

"_Ginny_. Repeat that, because I think I must've just been swarmed by nargles," Hermione stared at her with wide-eyed expectancy.

"He… said he can't shake the thought of me lately. He can't let us go, or something," Ginny mumbled into a hand.

"But what does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"Well what are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

"And… what does that mean for him and Gwen?"

"Urgh. I don't know," Ginny grimaced at Hermione's friendly abbreviation of the name. She paused for a moment, and then said tentatively, "She wants him to marry her."

"She _WHAT_?" Hermione shrieked, whirling to face Ginny with so much force that she nearly slipped on the ice. Ginny nodded, and Hermione knitted her eyebrows together looking most perturbed. "But that's absurd! They hardly even know each other! I mean… she's a nice girl, and very beautiful, but I hardly think that's any reason to- "

She broke off, with a noise of strangled frustration. She smoothed her hair away from her face with rather a lot of force and glared at Ginny, "- he is so damn- _stoic_!"

Ginny raised her eyebrows in question, a little indignant under Hermione's misdirected frustration.

"_Harry_. He is so… _how_ many times have I asked him outright about all this? And how many times have I asked if there is anything going on with him and Gwendolyn- because it's completely obvious that there is- and he just smiles and shrugs-" she stepped into a deceptively deep patch of snow and grabbed Ginny's arm to steady herself, "he's just impossible. There was a time when he would at _least_ talk to Ron and I about everything, but he- he's just got it into his head that he has to… I don't know, _live up_ to something now."

Ginny was taken aback to hear that Hermione actually had a slightly tearful note in her voice. She looked up, and Ginny could see the shadows of serious concern hovering over her face.

"He's going to crack under it all. It's _so_ much responsibility… and he refuses to share or even talk about it with anyone."

Ginny nodded distantly, remembering Harry's unexpected and frenzied venting from a few nights previous. If not _cracks_, there had definitely been signs of hairline fractures in his emotional state.

"He talked to me… just a little bit. Unloaded some," she said eventually, in the hopes that some of the worry might leave Hermione's eyes. Hermione looked up sharply and then nodded slowly.

"That's good. You always could get through to him somehow. _How_ is beyond me," she muttered wryly. Ginny tried to ignore the dull ache in her heart. Yes, she _had_ always been able to get through to Harry somehow. By the same inexplicable force that caused her, since she was thirteen and Voldemort returned, to feel his burden almost as her own- that same force drove her somehow down the right paths to poke, and prod, and eventually easy Harry into opening up.

But not for six long years.

She felt a slight stab of guilt, and shoved it away. It wasn't her place to feel guilty about not being there anymore. There was silence between them and Hermione broke it.

"So… what are you going to do? Wait?" She said this with a look that clearly said, '_You will not let him make you sit around and wait_'. Ginny shook her head.

"I truly don't know. Work out how I feel about it all I suppose. And then… talk to him?"

Hermione laughed bitterly at the notion of _talking_ to Harry. But then she took Ginny's hand and squeezed it gently.

"How do you feel?"

Ginny looked at Hermione, and felt herself crack a bit, at the tenderness waiting for her in the warm brown eyes.

"I don't know," she said honestly, a smile blooming uncontrollably on her face, though she felt like she could cry. Hermione nodded, with a look of secret understanding.

"Yes, well. It had to come to a head eventually- we could all see it coming."

Ginny was just about to ask _what_ exactly she meant be _we could all_ see _it coming_?!- when she realized they were standing in front of the rose-laced black stone building. She made an exaggerated gurgling noise of her own imminent death, and buried her head in Hermione's shoulder.

"There's my professional girl." Hermione patted her head, and Ginny could hear the smile in her voice. "Ready?"

Ginny nodded, and with a hugely heaved sigh, pulled the stupid glass door open.

It was not, actually, half as bad- being in Malfoy's office with a cohort. It was _almost_ quite fun, shuffling down the corridor and pointing and muttering about the pretentious paintings with raised eyebrows and silent giggles. They tried to sober up as they entered the reception area, but Ginny could not suppress the urge to sweep over to the cat-eyed witch and say in her most dramatically serious voice,

"We are _here_ to see, _Monsiour Valois_, please. _S'il vous plait_ - Pardon."

Which made Hermione snort horrifiedly into her hands, and even made the witch chuckle quietly. It was all most satisfying. They were pointed to his office, and entered with barely contained smirks of their own.

"You're late." Malfoy spoke sternly without even looking up at them.

Ginny was just about to point out that it was one-o'clock _exactly_, and to accuse them of being late because they were not _early _was absolutely ridiculous, when Hermione pinched the skin of her wrist sharply and she remembered that she was meant to be behaving herself.

"Sorry," she said instead, with a sweet smile. It was actually mostly sarcastic, but luckily, he still did not look up. He grunted and motioned for them to sit down. Ginny wondered wryly if he was _actually_ doing anything of importance, or if it was purely for show. She had to bite her lip against a laugh at the thought of him scrabbling to pick up something to look busy reading as they entered, and _that_ was when he looked up.

"_What_." He cocked one eyebrow imperiously, and she shook her head quickly, snapping into the expression of blank innocence she had perfected as a child. He let a look of detest linger over her, and then put the papers in his hands down.

"Hello, Draco," Hermione said, as Malfoy himself had not acknowledged their reunion - after who knows how many years. Ginny wanted to grimace at the sound of his first name spoken in Hermione's kind voice. She had never heard any of them refer to him as such, and was reminded of what a truly atrocious name it was. But she kept her face mild.

Malfoy was not as bothered with polite pretenses, and frowned with distaste before saying, with extra derisive pleasure, "_Granger_."

Ginny admired Hermione's ability to keep cool.

"Right," Malfoy said, "let's get to it- we have a lot to do."

He flicked at a speck on his deep satin sleeve and turned serious eyes on Hermione.

"Granger. So as you have an actual job, how will you two be dividing the-"

"- Sorry," Ginny cut in, despite herself. She paused to force the sweet smile back onto her face, "but what did that mean? I have a job as well, Malfoy."

"Oh?" He looked at her expectantly, and she could see the sneer in his eyes that warned her that he was setting her up for mockery, "do you have a career I'm not aware of, Weasley?"

"Yes, Malfoy, I do," she answered pleasantly, squeezing her fists together under the table. If only his fat head was between their crushing heels. _Or_ his stupid, _tiny_, boll-, "I am a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, I think you know that."

He paused only to give her a look of weary pity before resuming his question for Hermione.

"As you have a job, how will we divide your work? There is an insurmountable amount to be done for the Protection Act- revisions and such. Will you have the time? Or should you handle the Restoration and Education parts?"

Hermione smiled obligingly, squeezing Ginny's fingers to keep her from piping up again.

"Oh, yes," she said easily, "we've actually already discussed that. My contributions were mainly to the Restoritive and Educational portions. I can oversee the creation and management of those when the time comes, as well as help with the Binding Spell. I think I will have time for that at least- maybe even more, I will have to see."

Malfoy nodded his agreement and smiled down at the proposal.

"I see, so the Protection Act is yours, Weasley? That makes sense. Riddled with errors."

Ginny was quite sure that Hermione was about to rupture the skin of her left thumb if she didn't cut that out-

"As it happens, the Protection Act is what appeals to me most. The majority of the profit will lie there, I think. As the other two parts are nearly up to par, we can table those until the Protection Act is up to their standards. You and I will work on that in the coming weeks, then."

It was a statement, not a proposition.

_Had she ever wanted to harm someone more?_

Ginny busied herself with the pondering of this query, as Hermione gripped her hand like a vice, and Malfoy scratched out notes on his schedule.

Perhaps Ron, once or twice in their younger years, or perhaps Bellatrix Lestrange at the Battle of Hogwarts. His _Aunt_, she remembered with a sick shock. God, if only she could singe all his silly, ghostly hair off with her eyes- or glue his mouth shut so he could never speak _or_ smirk again…

"Right- it looks like I have time to get together bi-weekly to work on this," he said, looking matter of fact-ly from his schedule to Ginny. _Bi-weekly?!_ First of all, what sort of _git_ would use such a word she did not know, and second of all, _no way in God's bloodiest Hell_ was she going to do that.

"Um," she said delicately, trying to choose her words in a flattering way, "I'm not _quite_ sure that will be necessary… I am happy to re-write the Proposal on my own, and send it in to you for review-"

Malfoy snorted, waving the pages she and Hermione had toiled over, in the air by his ear,

"And end up with another ghastly mess? No, you need my supervision, I think. Monday and Friday of this week will be good for me. Here, at… Eleven O'clock." Once again he nodded affirmation to himself, without posing it as any sort of question to her. "Now you may leave if you want, or you can act as witness to the Contract Spell. Granger, wand out."

And thus it began.

**- WWWW -**

The end of that meeting ushered in a whirlwind of such intense work for Ginny, that she felt like she hardly breathed for the next three weeks.

He was _relentles_s.

He kept her inexplicably busy, dawn till dusk, nearly every single day, with an array of the sort of tasks she would never in a million years thought necessary for such a straightforward thing as _planning_ a business line. She had worked with George and Percy, developing new lines for the shop, and _never_ did they go to the insane lengths that Draco Malfoy did.

She sent flowers, brought coffee, floo-ed to 'check in on' their prospective business associates, basically priming them so that they could have the very best of businessmen at their disposal when the time came for action. It was, when she thought about it, the sort of slimy, flattering work that she could not _stand_… but to her surprise, she was good at it. She was naturally gifted with a knack at social situations, and though she stuck her foot in her mouth nearly all the time, she charmed the pants off the men of the cut-throat business world- if she did say so herself.

She got in the swing of it fairly quickly; buy a small gift, and stop by each office in rotation, visiting each future partner at least once a week. Learn about their families, their likes, their dislikes, their _secrets_ (which Malfoy was chock-full of, God knows how) and build a relationship. Many of the men found her quite refreshing and amusing, and she actually enjoyed their banter and careful flattery of each other rather a lot, if she was honest. They were all shocked to learn that she was in business with _Malfoy_- who was admittedly _highly_ respected as the King of flourishing and flattering business, but who Ginny _quickly _learned, was so notoriously unpleasant, that no one could quite work out how the two of them wound up working together.

He was shrewd though, she would hand him that with extreme reluctance.

Like the slithering snake she knew him to be, he would watch people, and somehow instantly size them up- instantly _know_ their weaknesses, their nerves. And sometimes he would use that to flatter them… but more often than not, he would use it to strike.

She came to dread their _bi-weekly_ meetings with ulcer-like physical repulsion.

It was the usual fest of taunting and jabbing, 'tsk tsk'-ing at her 'shoddy' work, and delicately insulting her family and everything she held dear. Not that it was exactly one-sided. Ginny actually shocked _herself_ by week three with just how fiery she could be, when she lost her head completely as he started in on Ron, and exploded a box full of papers near his desk. She would leave every single meeting with a pounding headache, and a shaking in her hands- both due, she was sure, to the buildup of tremendous fury she held inside for the duration of each one.

The shmoozing and the meetings were only the half of it however. There was the _endless_ back and forth with his sadistic lawyers, and the hours upon hours of research he demanded every week.

Not the mention the _letters_.

_The letters_.

God, if she could only turn back time, take out her wand to perform the contract spell, but instead hex him into a thousand horrible little pieces. The letters were his revenge for any uncontrollable lashings of her tongue during meetings; she was sure of it.

_December 31st_

_Weasley, I will need you to be at the Office of Mr. Drake Marley at 6:30 AM on the dot tomorrow morning. Clear?_

_- M_

_Oh, dear. I do hope that doesn't ruin any New Years Eve plans you may have had…_

* * *

_January 4th_

_Weasley, are you up? I know it's past midnight, but you need to compose a letter at once, and send it directly to the Office of Mr. Bonsao._

_Consider it a demonstration of your dedication. Up. Now._

_ - M_

* * *

_January 10th_

_Weasley, this report you gave me on the statistical rise of protective merchandise is atrocious._

_I truly don't know where your head is most days._

_ -M_

* * *

They haunted her. Not his words, not at all. Those she read blankly, and took much relish from tearing up into the smallest pieces she could. The letters _literally _haunted her. Day and night, at least two a day; she wasn't safe _anywhere_. She had come to have a visceral reaction to his enormous black owl that was so strong- she had actually come close to stunning it not but a day ago.

She had tried at first, to reply with a tone as polite (albeit sarcastic) as his.

Counting that as a failure, she had then tried to ignore the letters all together. She simply stopped replying. Ten letters and a badly bitten finger later, she had surrendered.

Her last few letters had looked a little something like:

_Malfoy,_

_I received your letter, and heard what you so graciously had to say. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to bestow such gems of wisdom upon me._

_Fuck You._

_ - W_

Yet they still came. She could almost sense his badly masked glee at tormenting her day and night, and if she didn't have an equal part in it, she would have felt it to be truly unlawful.

"_Why_? Why can't he leave me alone? I'm doing all the bloody work he tells me to, but he just _has _to keep harping on me. He _enjoys_ it, Hermione, that's the only reason he does it. I know it."

She had moaned this into her arms one night, at the sight of that ruddy black owl ('_Salazar_') outside the Burrow's kitchen window.

"Well," Hermione had said carefully, "I actually rather think it's something you two bring out in each _other_," she quailed under Ginny's look, "no, no- he is a _git_ who can't get along with anybody, don't get me wrong. But there is something about you that fires him up. And vice versa. I noticed it right away at our meeting. Maybe if _you_ laid off him, he would be nicer?"

She had thunked her head on the table, in the hopes that _it's _advice might be a little less rubbish.

If there was _one _good thing about Malfoy's ridiculous regime, besides the shocking amount of work they were getting through already, it was that Ginny was left with almost no time to dwell on Harry.

Almost.

She had moments here and there, but was rendered so practical-minded by the endless workload suddenly on her shoulders, that she had found that she had worked her end of it out rather quickly.

She still loved Harry. She had possibly known that all along, but had barricaded her heart so fiercely against slipping down that slope again, that she hadn't _truly _felt it. But she had also come to realize, that with her and Harry, it was always in the risk; always in the game. For years and years they had longed and tip-toed, lusted and tested the ice. His kind but damaged heart drew her like a cat to cream, and she would always feel the need to help him, the desire to be noticed by him. But they had never actually _been_ together in the calm and the open.

She didn't _know_ what she wanted, because the only way they had ever functioned regularly was as they did now. Almost-family. The big-brother's best friend. The best-friend's kid sister.

And if she knew Harry, which, inexplicably, she did almost better than anyone, he had no idea either. There was always the _question_ in the air around them. The curiosity and the want. The hurt and the need. The comfort and the thrill. But when it came to the question of: did either of them want to risk the stability of their entire family life, to try something _normal _out?

She could say with ninety-seven percent certainly, that neither of them had a bloody clue.

They had seen each other only twice in three weeks- what with Ginny's newfound complete lack of time for her family and friends. Both occasions were just in passing really- at the Burrow. In both cases, the room had been full of their friends and family, and their communication had been reduced to casual jokes and small talk, with lingering gazes and sweaty palms.

Everyone, save for a shrewd-eyed Hermione, had been blissfully unaware.

**- WWWW -**

Why was it the nature of life, to lie still, dormant, boring and uneventful for ages and ages- and then _explode _with so much activity and emotion that one can hardly function?

Perhaps it was leftover activity from the Big-Bang… Ginny did not know.

The third week of January found a Ginny Weasley, hyper-functional, newly best chums with half the businessmen in Wizarding London, prone to frequent migraines and anxiety-induced nausea- called in to a meeting with the managers of the Holyhead Harpies.

She arrived in the cramped and cluttered office of Bob Jorgens, fresh from a Lilac-bearing meet and greet with the Head of Magical Defensive Law, at precisely noon, on January the 13th. A Friday.

Jorgens, fat, lazy, and abrasive, was waiting with his co-manager, Billy Waters- a contrastingly slender, crafty, and overly-charming man.

"Hello," Ginny smiled nervously, upon realizing that she was the only Team-member present at this meeting. A wide variety of paranoia and Malfoy-induced thoughts ran through her head. _Had he spoken to them? Blackmailed them into convincing them to suspend her from the team until all her work with him was completed?_

_"_Miss Weasley!" Grinned Waters, as Jorgens grunted his form of greeting, "Welcome! Have a seat. We have a very exciting offer for you."

"Oh?" Surprised, Ginny took a seat in a ripped red leather chair in front of the desk. She smiled again. She was far too used to being in trouble for her own good.

"We want you to be the new face of the team," said Jorgens without any preamble whatsoever.

Ginny frowned, entirely taken aback. _What_?

"What?" she said blankly, "… but it's only my second year on the team… Isn't the _captain_ usually the face of the team as well?"

"Usually, but not always," Jorgens said dismissively, "if there is another player who has… Assets that appeal to the public more…"

Ginny narrowed her eyes, very skeptical, and a little offended. "_Assets_?"

"What he means to say," breezed in Waters, who was the 'tact' side of their two-headed-monster of management, "is that the public is _fascinated_ with _you_, Ginny."

He let his words hang in the air between them.

"… No, not really, they aren't," she replied.

"They are," he nodded his head enthusiastically- _sycophantically_ perhaps, "ever since we signed you last year that is all people have wanted! _GINNY WEASLEY_-"

He drew a dramatic hand through the air, as if her name should have burst out of his splayed fingers.

"The youngest player- scrappy, determined. A _war_ hero, part of Harry Potter's old gang," he looked at her with a chum-y wink that was entirely one sided, "everyone knows you used to date him, you know."

Ginny looked at him with wide eyes, horrified at how completely ludicrous he had just made her life sound. _Harry Potter's old GANG_. Honestly. _A war hero_!

"Yes," she said, managing not to laugh, "some of that is marginally true… but I don't think that would necessarily make me a good… Frontwoman."

Waters grinned in a 'tsssk, don't be silly, lassie!" sort of way that was quite alarming.

"Of COURSE you will be. You're _interesting_- you're funny and candid. You will be _gorgeous_ when our staff gets it's hands on you-"

_Oh, cor, tell me more._

"Right… but-"

"We're not really _asking_ you, Ginny," Jorgens stepped back in as she tried to keep up the debate, with an impatient hand held out in front of him, "fact is, you are a person of interest. You've got that new philanthropy project, a prominent family, and he's right- the Harry Potter draw. This is a meeting to let you know of your new position and discuss your duties as such."

Ginny stared at them, knowing she was red faced, but at least keeping her mouth shut. _Bloody fuck, if she had an ounce of control over her life any more, she would fall over in shock_.

The _Potter Draw_. Honestly. She was so tired of her own success being infiltrated by her association _six years ago_ with Harry.

But she nodded with a smile, probably actually a grimace, and said resignedly, "What are these duties."

She already knew, really. The 'face' of the team was the public spokesperson. The 'Krum' or the 'Gwenog Jones'. They headed all the _photoshoots_, modeled all the sponsored gear, spoke at press conferences. Ginny blanched.

"… shoot with Gladrags wear, as they sponsored our entire wardrobe this year- that will be next Saturday," Waters was saying, "and the most important upcoming event will be on Friday, February 17th," he looked at her pointedly, "the Minister's Ball. Ernie Tall will be honored there, and as he is our main sponsor, you will give the speech."

Public speaking. Beautiful. Her _favorite_.

Ginny nodded blankly, another unpleasant notion coming to her.

"Does the rest of the team know about this?"

"Not yet. Wanted to tell you first," grunted Jorgens in a 'you lucky girl' sort of way.

"Right…"

_Bloody Damn_. Ginny could already imagine the upheaval on the team. She got along very well with her teammates, but she suspected a nasty wrench had just been thrown in that. They wouldn't be too pleased that the Rookie had just been made their poster child... Their Captain, Holly Havies, would _certainly_ not be happy.

"Well then. Jolly good," she said distractedly, "right. Just let me know when I have to attend what," she tried to keep her voice buoyant, and not betray her panic at this added burden to her life, "thank you both very much. If you'll excuse me I have so much work to do... Be in touch."

They nodded, grunted, and waved, and she left the office with a graceful smile that fell off her face like the head of a snowman on a sunny day, the moment she stepped outside.

When it rains, it pours.

* * *

_Leave us an opinion, if you would be so kind- xo_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N- Alright, here is some promised action!_

_xx- Amie_

* * *

_Chapter 8_

_The Blowout_

* * *

The shadows under her bleary eyes made her look rather like Percy, Ginny thought dully.

They also made her look, as the Cosmo Witch so tactfully put it, like an 'overworked inferi'.

It was 9AM, and she was sitting slightly uncomfortably in a plastic chair, in front of a brightly lit and unforgiving mirror, in the Gladrags Studio. She had acquired a whopping four hours of sleep, and had been up since six running more errands than most people would attempt in an entire day. She couldn't stifle a yawn as the light from the arc of bulbs over the mirror assaulted her eyes, and was immediately reprimanded by the Cosmo Witch.

"Stop that! Everything is going to run and be ruined if you keep yawning like that! Hold it in." The young witch drew away from Ginny's face to put her hands on her hips, fixing her with a stern and heavily-lined eye.

"S-Sorry," Ginny said through another yawn. She blinked rapidly and pulled a guilty face as the glare on her intensified, "That's the last one, I absolutely promise."

The Cosmo Witch muttered something that sounded like, 'it better be', and continued her siege of Ginny's cheeks with her fluffy brush and some sort of _paste_. She was American, and even younger than Ginny by the look of her. Ginny studied the girl's studious frown as she inspected her victim's freckles, trying to think of who it was that she was reminded of.

"Casper- what should we do about these?" The girl sighed, motioning towards the sprinkling of brown across Ginny's nose. Ginny jumped a little as a large face with enormous black eyebrows filled her entire sphere of vision.

"Leave them," the man, 'Casper', spoke with a posh English accent, "we're selling her _originality_, and freckles are practically a Weasley trademark. They'll be reminiscent of Ron Weasley, and people will simply _die_ for that."

His breath was perfectly minty even though he had a cup of coffee in one hand, and Ginny glared into the eyes- hardly visible beneath the brows- a few inches from her own.

"Sorry," she said loudly, and the man jumped a little, "but you're not _selling me_, you're selling _robes._ And the notion that witches will want to buy _anything _because it's 'reminiscent' of my brother is absolutely ridiculous. He dresses like 'Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle' in an elderly home."

Casper drew back, peering at her with a face of upmost puzzlement. Judging by the massive camera that hung from his neck by a thick leather strap, Ginny gauged that he was the photographer. She remembered Water's pleading last words to her, at their brief meeting the night before. "_Please, Ginny, _please_, do not upset Casper Lamar. He is the best photographer in England, and I'm not going to shock you with the lurid details of how we got him to work with us on this…."_

She quelled ever so slightly, and was just about to say something placating, when the man attached to the mountain of eyebrows started to laugh, a deep, Father-Christmas-esque laugh.

"Well," he said, and one brow shot up his forehead. Ginny was surprised he managed to raise it at all, "I was told you were a fiery one," he gave her a crafty look, "we can sell that too. Make the hair more red," he said to the Cosmo Witch, and walked away with the sort of grandiose stride one usually sees from a rooster.

Ginny watched him go, fuming, and looked sharply at the young witch in front of her when she heard the sounds of much more _girlish_ chuckling.

"He liked you," the American girl noted with amusement. She grabbed Ginny's chin with a thumb and forefinger, and pulled her face back to the light, "I'm for real," she said, when Ginny nodded ironically, "Casper's affection is won by tough love. He _hated _me until the day I finally snapped on him- threw his coffee in his big, stupid face. I thought I was for sure out of here, but," she broke off, and gave Ginny a sparkling look, raising her arms as if to say 'here I am'.

"Even with the time it must have taken to wash the coffee out of his eyebrows?" Ginny grumbled, watching the photographer fuss with a massive light across the room. The Cosmo Witch snorted with laughter. Ginny allowed herself a smile, "The one thing I'm supposed to refrain from today is angering him. I daresay that wasn't the _best_ first impression..."

"Nah," the witch said, at it again with her brush, "I think he was mostly just shocked that a model could talk."

Ginny winced at the word 'model', but grinned at the sentiment. The girl tapped her on the chin.

"Close your mouth," she held up her brush, laden with the pasty substance she was smearing all over Ginny's face, "this stuff does wonders for your skin, but it'll make your mouth dry as the desert for _days_ if you swallow any. I'm Tanya, by the way."

"Ginny," Ginny replied, as best she could through closed lips.

"I know that," Tanya rolled her eyes, and in a flash Ginny realized who she was reminded of. _Tonks_. Her heart lurched, and she stared at the short, spiky black hair, the comically pursed lips. "Why are you looking at me like that? Close your eyes. I need to de-bag them, and you're creeping me out."

Ginny smiled as she closed her eyes, her heart aching for Tonks. It was a sharp and unexpected pain; the same kind that struck her whenever she saw George and Percy together through the distorted window of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and thought for that happy moment before logic arrives, that it was, of course, Fred and George- together as they had always been. She took a slow, comfortable breath, used to the deep pull of nostalgia and separation. It passed gracefully as it always did, and Ginny jerked a little as she felt a wand-tip pressed gently to her lid.

Ignoring the instant reprimand, she tried to be still and _not_ worry about the imminent prospect of being blinded. Thankfully, Tanya seemed to know what she was doing, and when Ginny opened her eyes again, her vision was intact. She could, in fact, see the most _beautiful _sight-

"-Coffee?!" she exclaimed, as her eyes fell onto the steaming mug held out before her. A young man, who seemed to be Casper's assistant, nodded and placed a tray of cream and sugar down on the table beside Ginny before bowing out of their way, "_brilliant_."

"Told you he liked you," Tanya said smugly, as Ginny saluted Casper gratefully from across the room, "that, and, you look like death. They call me a miracle worker, but sometimes they still need to pull out the bigger guns."

"_Thanks_," Ginny muttered into her mug, but again, she could not help a grin.

The next hour was spent, quite literally, in a whirlwind of brushes, spells, and Cosmo products. Ginny sat stiffly in her chair, trying to keep her mouth closed, eyes open- "_no, closed!_", turning her head this way and that, trying not to wince as her hair was yanked on, and trying not to snap as her sleep-deprived temper spiked at every tug to her scalp. Brushes soared around her in a dizzying spiral, and Tanya's wand hardly seemed to still at all for a full twenty minutes.

Ginny could not imagine a situation she was less suited for, and found herself thinking dimly, that if _this_ first task was any indication of what being the 'Face of the Harpies' was like, she may have to beg Jorgens and Waters to call the whole thing off.

She did have to admit, however, that this unexpected and bizarre scene was much more enjoyable than what she would otherwise be doing right now- working with Malfoy. Any irritation she may feel about having her hair and face pawed at was silly, really, in comparison to the loathing for Malfoy that would otherwise be burning a hole in her gut right now. She enjoyed listening to Casper Lamar boss his assistant around, fussing about the nature of the lighting and the 'energy' of the room as if he were an Auror on the tail of Voldemort himself. And she delighted in talking to Tanya, whose similarities to Tonks seemed to grow exponentially as they chatted.

Tanya had grown up in America- Salem to be exact- which in itself fascinated Ginny enough to almost completely distract her from the discomfort of the cosmetic administrations. Ginny learned about the city of Salem, and the strange, free-thinking community of Wizarding Portland on America's west coast where, Tanya told her, most of the House Elves had been free and employed for _pay_ for decades now. Ginny made a mental note to discuss this with Hermione, and was just about to ask about their Minister- when there was a tap on the large window behind Tanya, which looked out over Hogsmeade.

Both girls looked over at the same time, and Ginny felt the fist of fury clench her heart. It was, of course, Malfoy's owl. Salazar.

"Who's- woah, are you okay? I know I didn't put _that_ much rouge on you…" Tanya was watching Ginny's flushed glare, which was locked onto the _beady little eyes_ of Salazar, with some alarm. Cautiously, she moved to the window and slid it open enough for the beast to creep inside. "Who's owl is that?"

The huge black bird drew itself up, and extended a foot like a king extending his ring to be kissed by a groveling servant. Maybe George was right, _maybe_ she did read too much into animals, but Ginny swore that the hateful little face was doing the closest thing an owl _could _do- to a smirk.

"Draco Malfoy's," Ginny answered at length through gritted teeth. Salazar ruffled his feathers proudly at the sound of his master's name, and Ginny repressed a shudder of repulsion.

"Lover's spat?" Tanya asked with raised eyebrows, still studying Ginny.

"_No_," Ginny said with a scoff, "we work together. Begrudgingly."

"Still… he's Draco Malfoy," Tanya said with a twinkle in her eye. Ginny raised her eyebrows blankly, and Tanya looked suddenly thoughtful, "But he's dating Diana Farrington, that's right. I've worked on her a few times," she said offhandedly, before glancing at Salazar with mischievous interest, "_Draco Malfoy's _owl…"

"What about it," Ginny said flatly, snatching then note off the sharply-taloned leg.

"Dark and powerful, just like him," Tanya answered coyly, with a conspiratorial glance at her. Ginny stared at the girl's suddenly giddy face in utter confusion.

"Sorry?" she laughed, still staring. Tanya gave her a 'come on, admit it' look.

"You can't deny the man's gorgeous. And dangerous," she said excitedly, as though she did not fully understand the word, "supposed to be into some real sick shit, right?"

Ginny blinked, in awe of this particular take on Malfoy, the likes of which she had_ never_ heard before… understandably, considering the only people she _really_ hung around with were her family, the Order, and ex D.A. members.

"I… can't really say. We don't _quite_… see eye to eye," she said in a lame attempt at diplomacy, feeling like she was barely scratching the surface of their dislike for each other, "People have said for years that he's still into the dark arts, but what we're working on is a charity act…"

Tanya nodded, looking mildly interested. Then her face became impish,

"Yeah, but isn't he supposed to be some sort of criminal mastermind? When we moved here, the Malfoys were the _only_ people my father forbade me to ever associate with."

"Is that so?" said Ginny, an unpleasant tingle running down her spine. "Well. He certainly is sadistic. But… the Malfoys were cleared of all charges after the war."

Her words had a funny lilt to them, and even she could hear the note of doubt in her voice. Tanya gave her another 'yes, but come on' look, and Ginny felt that knot in her stomach contract. The knot that still nagged at her; the knot that still feared she had entered into business with the enemy himself.

"When did you move here?" she asked Tanya suddenly, studying her eyes. They held a sweetness; a naive purity that Ginny rarely saw in English witches and wizards her age anymore.

"Three years ago," Tanya smiled, brandishing the rouge brush, "to follow my calling as miracle worker. You Brits needed me more," she winked, nudging Ginny playfully on the cheek with the brush. Ginny smiled. Yes, there it was. Tanya had not experienced the war- had probably never in her life come into contact with _real _danger. Ginny found her heart welling with something protective and loving at the realization, and found it very easy to forgive the girl of her wildly inaccurate opinion of Draco Malfoy.

She reluctantly unfolded the note in her hands as Tanya got to work on her hair again.

_Weasley._

_I know you said you are 'busy' today, but I can't waste the energy pretending I can take a PHOTOSHOOT anywhere near seriously enough to constitute a 'busy' schedule for you. I will be out of town on Thursday on a matter of __actual__ importance, so we will need to meet today instead. One o'clock will do._

_Bring the Clayton files, and for God's sake, leave the photographers and stylists at home. _

_- M_

Ginny crumpled the note fiercely in her hand, feeling her temper spike alarmingly. _Most _days, she had learned to dismiss Malfoy's infuriating rudeness as an unfortunate quirk of life she could only laugh at. Or _try_ very hard to, anyways. But it had now been over a month, and she was worked to the bone. The uneasy knot of mistrust in her stomach was sending prickles of anxiety through her limbs, and that fear, as it always did, was turning into an anger more fiery than anything else that ever coursed through her bloodstream.

Salazar was watching her smugly, and with a stab of nausea, she was reminded horribly of Voldemort's snake, Nagini. She knew she was only being paranoid, she _knew_ that being thrust into this situation with Malfoy had somehow brought out her deeply-buried mistrust in people, started by Tom Riddle. But she felt today, that the fragile string that kept her emotions in line was finally being stretched impossibly taut. She was reaching the end of her tether.

With a flush, Ginny realized that she was dangerously close to tears. She rarely ever cried, and blinking rapidly, she told herself that it was simply _lack of sleep_, and not _weakness_ that was making her feel this way. Like a first year standing barefoot in a scary, stone room, far beneath the school; surrounded by the echoing taunts of the boy who tricked her into madness.

"Be gone, sky-rat," she said to the owl, relieved to hear the steadiness in her voice. Salazar ruffled his feathers and drew himself up, clearly with no intention of leaving. The motion was so reminiscent of Malfoy, that Ginny felt a wave of angry defeat toss her heart again. She sighed heavily, un-rumpling the note best she could, and scribbled a short reply with a stick of eye-charcoal lying within reach. Tanya yelped in protest, but Ginny had already finished. She folded the note and extended it to the beast.

_Fine. One o'clock._

Salazar snatched it with his razor-sharp beak, and hopped out the window into the clear blue sky- tarnishing it like spilled ink gliding down a fresh and lovely sheet of parchment.

"You okay?" Tanya asked warily, putting a concerned hand on Ginny's arm. Ginny felt the embarrassing lump in her throat resurface at her touch. She took a breath and smiled warmly. Tanya smiled back, "Good. 'Cause I'm all done here. What d'ya think? Do I live up to my title?"

She pulled Ginny to her feet and led her to the mirror. Ginny was immediately distracted by the unfamiliar weight on her scalp as she stood, and the alarmingly thick mass of hair that blanketed her arms.

"-_What fresh hell_…!" she yelped, trying for a moment to wriggle away from the hair, before realizing it was attached to her head, "is this even _mine_?"

Tanya smirked, "Some of it."

Ginny lifted a heavy lock with a thumb and forefinger dubiously, before looking up into the mirror. She froze in mild surprise before turning an impressed smile on Tanya.

"Told you. Miracle worker," the Cosmo Witch grinned at her.

It was quite an impressive and _welcome_ transformation from the exhausted, pale witch Ginny had been confronted with in her mirror at home as of late. Her skin shone, her freckles standing out in a way that gave highlight to her face, rather than distracting from it. Her eyes sparkled brightly, lashes dark and brows defined. Her cheeks were the peachy blush of the girls Ginny had always secretly envied at school- the ones who sprouted sweet circles of color when they were shy or excited… rather than the generally-red-and-blotchy-all-over thing that Ginny's own face tended to do. And her hair was a mass of thick, _red_ waves. A much more vibrant red than Ginny was used to seeing. She fingered it curiously, and Tanya chuckled with glee.

"Such a lovely color on you. I'm going to do it for the Ministers Ball as well!" she spun with pleasure, her brushes and wand clutched to her chest, and Ginny's head snapped towards her.

"The Minister's Ball? No… I - erm- I don't think it will be necessary for you to-"

"I've already been paid for it, it is completely necessary," she said firmly, giving Ginny a 'don't be ridiculous' look. Ginny half-smiled, half-grimaced. This photoshoot was one thing, but she didn't like the idea of having a personal stylist for every event she was forced to attend by Waters and Jorgens. It certainly had not been what she had in mind when she had signed up for life on a broom-stick.

"Tanya, you've done it again, my darling!" A posh accent in her ear made Ginny jump. Before she knew what was happening, soft male hands were gripping her by the arm and dragging her over to the lights.

She stood, slightly awkwardly, in front of a white backdrop, while Casper Lamar bounced around with his camera held aloft, clicking away with much flourish. After a few moments of initial excitement however, his movements slowed to a halt, and he lowered the camera, frowning.

"Well darling, come now! Sell it to me!" he cried, eyebrows dancing in annunciation.

Ginny scowled. _What exactly was she supposed to be selling_? _Robes_? She held out the skirts of the robes in a 'ta-da' sort of way, and tried to smile. Caspar Lamar made a noise of distaste.

"No, _no_, this isn't a catalogue shot for Teen Witch!" he said despairingly, "This is high _fashion_! This is the robe of choice for _Ginny Weasley_! _Star_ of the Harpies! Former girlfriend of Harry Potter!"

Ginny dropped her hands and scowled even harder. The camera clicked rapidly.

"Very good, yes, _much_ better. Now give me innocent."

Ginny found Tanya's face behind the camera. She was blinking doe-ily at Ginny, eyes sparkling with mirth. Ginny smiled dryly at her, and made a comically innocent face at Caspar.

"_Yes! YES! _Such an expressive face!" Ginny tried very, very, hard not to laugh at this, remembering her _sole_ instructions for the day. "Now, darling. Give me _lusty._"

Ginny grimaced. "Erm, _no_."

Caspar Lamar scowled, eyebrows drawing together like two massive caterpillars rearing to fight each other to the death.

"Give me _something_. Love, passion! Think of someone you hold dear, something you desire!"

Ginny bit her lip, looking uncomfortably at him, and Harry came unbidden into her mind. She breathed deeply, and threw her pride in the bin. She let herself, for the first time in weeks, feel the breathtaking flurry of emotions she had been trying her very best to keep tame where Harry was concerned. She remembered his voice, asking her if she was alright, the intent concern in his eyes that had not changed since he was twelve. She remembered the way he hugged her lately- the only times they could have any contact without feeling like they were doing anything out of the ordinary. She remembered how closely he would draw her in, how sturdy he felt against her.

"_YES! Here, darling! Look here!_" Caspar cried, pointing frantically to the lens. Ginny started and looked into the lens, trying to see Harry's eyes in the lifeless glint of the glass. She felt suddenly rather exposed, and wondered if her unruly feelings for Harry were something she _really_ wanted the world to see, wether they knew what they were looking at or not.

A young witch with curly blonde hair entered the room, and Ginny looked up, momentarily distracted. Caspar flailed his arms wildly, directing her attention back to the camera, and she looked into it unguardedly.

"_Yes._ Now. Let's see the Weasley fire," he said enthusiastically. Ginny rolled her eyes at hearing her family name branded like that, and the camera clicked. Casper chuckled that deep booming chuckle, "More! Let's see some real fire."

This was not hard. Malfoy came instantly to mind, and that thinly tethered army of emotions surged to the surface of Ginny's heart. The letters, his complete inconsideration for her time, his rude words. His smug manner, his imperious nature, his distaste for her family because they were not wealthy- because they were _good_. She actually felt as though her eyes were ablaze, and felt a little stab of victory as Caspar cried out in ecstasy.

"_BRILLIANT! POSITIVELY BRILLIANT!_"

That, she _was_ okay with the world seeing. She hoped Malfoy might come upon it, in the paper or in a magazine. She hoped he might be haunted by it. She was _not_ weak, and let this be _proof_ of that.

**-WWWW-**

Her time in front of the overzealous camera was over before she knew it, and feeling dazed, she accepted Casper Lamar's gushing enthusiasm with a blank nod, and followed a beckoning Tanya to a screen in the far corner of the room.

She changed out of the Gladrags robes, which had been pinned rather more tightly that she was used to, and pleaded with Tanya for a good five minutes before the Cosmo Witch would put her hair back to normal. She glanced uneasily at her done-up face in the mirror, deciding she would nip home before going to Malfoy's office, to wash off the traces of the shoot. She could feel in her gut that any added ammunition for Malfoy might actually make her snap today.

She glanced at the clock on the wall, saw with relief that she _would _have time to clean up before going to see the dragon, and bid Tanya a cheerful goodbye. She hurried across the huge studio, throwing Caspar Lamar another salute, and drawing from him another chuckle. She was _nearly_ out the door, when the young blonde witch, who had been lurking silently against the far wall, barred her way.

"Ginny?" The witch smiled an unnervingly charming smile, extending a hand from a sleeve of pink satin. "I'm Ella. I'm writing a story about you being made the new 'Face of the Harpies', for Witch Weekly, and I was hoping I could chat with you- get a few juicy quotes." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, white teeth still bared in a smile. Ginny faltered.

"Ah… " If she was honest, she _did_ have time. But she did _not _ have the patience, "I'm so sorry, but I actually will be late for a meeting if I don't get out of here _right _now," she said politely, feigning regret. "I don't suppose we could do it another day?"

The blonde witch shook her head, still smiling, although the look in her eyes had changed to something more hostile, transforming her smile into a leer. "No can do. It's running in next week's issue. Deadline's tomorrow."

Ginny tried to look very, very disappointed, as relief spread through her limbs. "Oh, dear. I hope you'll be able to make do?"

The smile grew on the witch's face. "Yes, I think so. I can be creative."

Something in Ginny's gut sank in warning, but she ignored it, wanting to get out of the Gladrags studio as fast as humanly possible. "Okay, thanks. Sorry about that. Nice to meet you, er," she blanked. The witch smiled that strange leer again,

"_Ella_."

"Yes! Ella. Nice to meet you- take care."

And she was off at the speed of light.

She managed to scrub her face clean and change into a fresh set of clothes in record time, and shocked herself to the core by arriving at Malfoy's office _ten minutes early_. Perhaps that would put him in such a good mood he wouldn't be _such_ an intolerable git today.

She stepped into the reception room, and instantly sensed that something was off. There was a definite lack of warmth in the usually cozy environment. She stopped, meeting the eye of Malfoy's middle-aged receptionist, and registered the look of discomfort on her face. Two raised voices were seeping out of Malfoy's office. One of them drove that stake of irritation into her heart, as she was very, very used to by now. The other made her palms go cold.

Lucious Malfoy.

His voice still, all these years later, brought her back to the scariest times of her life. She saw in her mind's eye, him thrusting a stack of Lockhart books into her used cauldron, a piece of Voldemort's soul now tucked inside 'Gadding with Ghouls'. She heard his haughty tones echoing outside the Hospital Wing, after she had been recovered from the Chamber of Secrets, livid because his _plan_ didn't work. Because he had to find a new house elf. She saw the masked face in the Department of Ministries, closing in on them, scored by silky words.

"… and _this_ Draco? _This_?" his voice was saying now, "This is how you renew our legacy? _This_ is how you do your part?"

"_Sorry_- would you rather I do something _really _useful and spend a few years in _Azkaban_? _Father_?" Malfoy spat back. "I know what I'm doing, and don't you _dare _come in here pretending you know better."

"I am your _father_- your _elder_- of _course _I know better! You are turning the Malfoy name into a laughingstock with this farce- this _game_ you have decided to play-"

"_The Malfoy name_? I am _redeeming_ the Malfoy name. Just _who_ do you think is laughing at us, father? The dead and the demented cannot laugh, and that is where all your friends have ended up. Your time is over, and I will carry this on in the way that I know how-"

"By becoming the world's greatest _benefactor_?" Lucious sneered, "By investing- or pretending to invest, I can't tell anymore, Draco- in _charity_. In the well-being of _mudbloods_ and _blood-traitors_?"

"I am following the lead that you gave me. You have always donated our money to reputable causes, kept our name pure in _that_ way at least-,"

"_Reputable_ is the operative word there, Draco. Not _pitiable_. A dime of _my_ money has never gone to the scum of the earth that you are now feeding from your once-clean hands." Lucious' voice was quiet. Ginny could only hear it because he had opened the door to leave. It was a warning sign she had come to know. His son's voice did the same thing whenever she crossed a serious line in their arguments.

"Good day, father. You are not welcome here again," Malfoy's tone was clipped with anger. Lucious laughed, a low chuckle that made the hairs on Ginny's neck stand up.

"As you are no longer welcome in our home. I'll tell your mother hello, and spare her some of the more grievously disappointing details I have found here today."

"Thank you kindly."

As the door opened fully, Ginny swore she could _feel_ a blast of frigid air; as if the ice in the eyes and voices of the two Malfoy men had created a palpable change in the environment. Lucious turned, and Ginny stood rooted to the middle of the room as both of their eyes fell on her at the same time. Lucious laughed that cruel, highborn chuckle again, fastening the clasps on his cloak with long, aristocratic fingers.

"Ah, good. The perfect illustration to my point has joined us right on time."

He looked back at Draco, who's eyes flickered across his only momentarily before falling on Ginny again, full to the brim with cold rage. Lucious swept a look over Ginny that made her feel like a quivering child, and she did her best to straighten her shoulders and glare back at him. Taking care to walk unnecessarily far around her, Lucious took his leave in a swish of black silk.

Ginny stared at Malfoy, her heart beating sickeningly hard.

Malfoy stared back, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His breathing was labored, though she could tell he was trying very hard to keep it even.

"Come in," he said silkily, his face changing in one swift beat, into an eerily calm smile that scared her even more than his father's laughter. She hesitated. His eyes were shining with something cruel. He was goading her, daring her to run away.

She stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her.

It was then that her instincts rose above the shocked blankness in her mind. They pounded on her ribcage, screamed at her to leave. This was not a safe place for her to be. The fraying grip on her own nerves and temper today were in no shape for this. The look in Malfoy's eyes was one of the most dangerous things she had ever seen. Her gut knew it, _felt_ it-

- but she didn't take the hint.

"You are early," he said quietly, too quietly. He straightened in his chair, hands sweeping up a stack of loose parchment on the desk in front of him. He set them tidily to the side, smoothing out the front of his robes. His nimble fingers straightened his tie, drawing the knot tighter around his neck, where Ginny could see the defined line of a vein throbbing out a rapid heartbeat. His motions were too controlled, too robotic. Her heart beat faster than ever and she didn't know why.

"Yes," she said, just as calmly, "you _have_ mentioned that you don't appreciate my… what was it? 'Demented sense of punctuality'?"

That calm smile bloomed on his face again. Ginny was reminded of the sphinx Bill had taken her to see once on their trip to Egypt. It had smiled like that too, but not out of humor. _Its_ smile had meant, 'you poor fool… you don't know I'm about to kill you, do you?' and it had ripped the head off of a goat who had strayed away from its herd.

"Punctual is punctual. _Early_ is intrusive. You have intruded upon business that is not yours," he said calmly, his eyes completely expressionless. One long finger tapped slowly on the dark oak of his desk.

Ginny stared at him. He was, she thought, wound like a jack-in-the-box that is about to burst. She could sense the tension in him. The way he moved, the soft lowness of his voice. She had _never_ seen him act like this, and she didn't know how to handle it. How lightly to tread. His face cracked ever so slightly, and she could see the hunger for a fight laying beneath his collected exterior. It yanked on the tether inside of her, and she felt herself dangerously close to snapping. He would _not_ take this out on _her_.

"_No_, Malfoy," she said suddenly, her voice not as adept at hiding her fury, "I have _had it_. Don't you _dare_ take your anger out on me because you are _still_ a disappointment to Daddy after all these years. It's not my problem."

The room was filled with a sucking stillness, as though the walls themselves had taken in a sharp gasp of air at her words. The silence rang out like a war cry- like the paralyzing moment between pulling the trigger and being swept away by the explosion.

Malfoy's eyes flashed, and his lips parted, and for a moment he looked madly excited. She had done it. She had taken the bait. There was no going back now.

"What did you say?" he barked at her, and she could definitely see the rapid rise-and-fall of his chest beneath his tailored robes now. She didn't say anything, only looked him dead in the eye, a rushing filling her ears- making it hard to think, hard to backtrack. When her silence passed the appropriate beat for a response, a cruel sneer bloomed slowly on his face. He pushed his chair back and walked languidly around the desk towards her, with the confidence and menace of a leopard closing in on it's prey, grazing obliviously in the shade.

"I'm _sorry_," he purred, drawing up within inches of her. "Are my words too _mean_ for Little Weasley? Can't take the reality of business, little girl? Too _weak_?"

Ginny's breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him, unnerved by contrast of his silky tone and the muscle still twitching in his jaw.

"No," she said through gritted teeth, "I'm saying that I am _through_ being your whipping post, Malfoy. Sort your shit out on your own time."

"There isn't enough time in the world," he said with a chuckle, low in his throat. He narrowed his eyes and let out a stream of air through his teeth, looking her up and down in a way she knew was meant to make her feel objectified. Her chest burned with fury. "And while I won't disgrace my family further by saying that I would _love_ to use you as a…" he paused to meet her eyes, a lewd light on his face, "_whipping post_, I would advise you to not be so pathetically sensitive. I haven't said anything out of line."

His tone was filled with mockery and Ginny had to clench her fists at her sides to keep herself from smacking him.

"I'm not being sensitive," she snapped, "I have six brother's Malfoy, I'm tough enough. I only meant-"

A truly cruel smile had sprung onto his lips and he laughed a short, humorless laugh.

"Actually, you only have _five_ brothers."

Ginny reeled backwards as if _she_ had been slapped. There was a ringing in her ears, and a voice in her head shouting at her to _leave_, to _go_- that this had become an actual _dangerous_ situation. Her and Malfoy argued nearly all the time, but never, _never_ had the air between them been quite so serious, so deadly. Their banter was usually born from a place of pure childish dislike. But this, this was much more ugly; much more adult. The air was crackling with unpredictability, and Ginny knew that if their wands were drawn, it would not be for silly hexes.

"How dare you," she breathed, her hands numb and shaking with anger, "how _dare_ you. You evil bloody snake. You-"

"Ah, ah, ah, Weasley," he tasked softly, "you _don't _want to be throwing insults around right now."

"You _cruel, _vile ASSHOLE!" she continued, her voice rising to a shout. "You PETULANT scum bag! How _dare_ you offer us your investment, only to _treat us like house elves_! How _dare_ you _laugh_ about Fred, when it was one of your lot who _murdered _him?!"

"It was a fucking war, there was murder on both sides, you stupid little girl," Malfoy spat, "Your cow of a mother '_murdered_' my aunt, but you don't hear me bleating on about it-"

"Oh? Is it called 'murder' when you dispatch a demon back to hell? I'm not quite so sure," Ginny shot back furiously, her head pounding with sensory overload. "And don't you _dare_ call my mother names, don't call _me_ a little girl-"

"-You are a little girl. Naive and blind and irritating." He turned scathing eyes on her, and that knot of anxiety in her stomach finally broke free.

"Naive?" she asked quietly, "And why exactly am I so naive, Malfoy? Just what did your father mean by 'pretending to invest'? What '_game_' are you playing?"

That thick, suffocating stillness filled the air again. Ginny felt as though she might drown in it. It was hard to breathe.

Malfoy was shaking his head, his gaze fixed murderously on the wall behind her. "Don't you worry yourself about that," he said dryly, and to her immense frustration, her panic, she couldn't gauge the emotion behind his words; behind his eyes. She was too flustered, too full of that whining 'fight or flight' impulse.

"You are a treacherous, double-crossing little bastard," she said finally, her voice shaking. "You were helping the Death Eaters wreak havoc when you were still practically a kid. You let them into the castle and set them loose on the students. On Dumbledore," he was looking at her with an expression she couldn't discern, and she let herself look back at him with full _disappointment_. Let it be reminiscent of his father. "You haven't changed a bit since then, have you?"

"_I _wreaked havoc on the school?" he said at length, "Yes, I let the Death Eaters into the school when I was but a child, but _you_ were the one who let _Tom Riddle himself_ in, and at a much younger age. No one will forget that soon, _Ginevra_."

An icy grip tightened on Ginny's insides, and she felt her eyes widen. '_Ginevra_'. She remembered her full name, in Tom Riddle's voice, echoing around the Chamber of Secrets with that same, mocking derision.

"I-," she began, but was horrified to hear her voice break. She shook her head violently, and let out a shaking breath.

"That's what I thought," he said coldly, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at her smugly. She looked up into his face and was absolutely mortified to realize that her vision was blurred. She felt hot tears spill onto her cheeks, and looked away at once, her hair swinging with her head. She hoped it might shield her face from view. She had not cried in months. _Now?_ _Really_?

She stared at the blue velvet armchair in the corner of the room, and felt her strength come back to her slowly. _Don't hide your face_, said the voice inside of her that took over for her mother, when Molly was not around. She looked back at Malfoy. His expression surprised her. The anger had dissipated from his face, replaced instead by the confusion she often saw on little Teddy's face, when he broke something without knowing he could. Like an egg, or a tomato, or the time he squeezed the baby bird he found in the garden too hard… Malfoy's eyes had gone similarly soft, similarly regretful. Similarly guilty.

"Well," she said at last, wiping the tears smoothly from her cheeks, and managing to smile gracefully at him. "That's that, then."

"Weasley…" he trailed off, looking uncharacteristically awkward. His hand went convulsively up to his tie, and loosened it, before running through his hair.

She shook her head, turned and left, before he could say anything else.

The secretary witch looked at her with a stunned and slightly frightened expression as she walked through the reception area, and Ginny knew she had heard every word. She didn't care. All she cared about was finding the relief of the outside air, and when she finally pushed the glass door open, she gulped at the air as though it was a glass of water after hours in the desert. Shaken, she leaned against the trellis of roses for a long while as her senses began to slow and process the unpleasantness of the past half-hour.

When she finally felt clear-minded enough to apparate, she did so with a strange sense of relief, knowing somehow, that she wouldn't be hearing from Malfoy or his bloody _owl_ again, anytime soon.


End file.
